Promises
by Ukitsu43
Summary: The power to heal and the power to hurt. A gamble that may go either way and promises nothing to those that bet...This is a Legolas/OC *first 2 chapters are backstory. starts with the two towers. please dont flame!*
1. 1 Remember the Name

**Authoress Chat:**** Okay, okay. I have literally not done an LOTR fiction in about five years but when inspiration strikes, right? So I am writing this now. Make sure to provide lots of feedback. I eat reviews, so don't let me starve. And I also did a lot of research so I could support the elven culture as truly as possible. Please enjoy. **

***As of 12/27/2009* This is an updated version of Chapter One.**

**Chapter 1-Remember the Name**

Haldir looked down on his desk, in the elven flet set aside as the offices of the March Warden. The room was filled with golden rays of sunlight, brightening his mood far more than the abyss of paperwork which seemed to have materialized overnight. Sighing and calming his nerves, Haldir paced deliberately towards the dreaded load of work that awaited him.

Sitting down on a seat covered with a thin film of dust, he rolled his eyes at his own laziness, whilst thumbing through a grab-bag of paperwork.

"Files, requests for protection, Border Logs…," he mumbled, placing each in a pile that would help him organize. "Bill for damages, application…wait, application?" he hummed, his eyes alight with childish humour.

Haldir had been looking for one of these for what seemed like centuries. His chocolate orbs scanned the paper with purpose, slowly picking out information to see if he would be wasting his time by replying to the inquiry. He saw one fact that stood out at first glance.

"Barawen…so, it is an elleth?" he spoke out loud.

Holding back a scoff, Haldir scanned the rest of the information, finding there was sparse any information to be gathered. She said she was a healer and wanted to expand her education. That in itself was odd. Why would a healer want to join the guard? Did she not keep herself busy enough healing the injured? The second odd thing was that the name rang a teensy bell in the recesses of his mind. He, however, could not remember where it was from or why he should have recalled at all.

"Barawen Russaloxë?"

It was a Sindarin mother name and a Quenya father name, which meant that she was one of the Eldar and had taken a Sindarin name. She probably followed Galadriel from Beleriand, a remnant of the Noldor under Galadriel's rule.

His mind was so occupied with considerations that he barely heard his brother walk into the flaxen glow of the flet.

"What is this?" Rumil asked, dusting his light brown tunic. "I see that the Valar have finally made the time for you to review all of the new articles. I should say that the Western post is in dire need of new talent."

Then, seeing how deeply his brother was engrossed, he came closer, waving a hand in his face.

"Is all well, my brother?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Haldir finally looked up smiling at his inattentiveness.

"I was overlooking the inquiry I just received for a young elleth to join the guard."

Rumil's eyebrow jumped up of its own accord.

"An elleth? Well, those are few and far in-between. What are her prerequisites?" he asked, leaning over the desk, hanging onto every word as though it were a tune.

"Her name is Barawen Russaloxë. She comes from Beleriand and wishes to make use of herself from a medic into a warrior. I feel like I should know her-"

Rumil interrupted his brother's explanation with a flare of laughter. Haldir's narrowed as his brother had clearly produced tears at hearing that he 'ought to know her.'

"Oh, brother," he said after a long time. "You _should_ know the elleth who healed you after that orc ran you through with his blade. We feared that your bleeding would never cease as Orophin and I dragged your body from the battlefield. But Lady Galadriel had already sent her on her way. She punched an orc so hard that it fell dead. The others became frightened and ran off as she began to heal you. Her hands radiated an orchid magic, stopping your bleeding and mending the majority of the wound. How could you not remember?"

Haldir's mood became serious, pervading the room.

"I can't say I remember her everything that happened. But that is enough for me…at least for me to respond to the request. She stays in the Healing Glade, correct?"

/ / / / /

Barawen was just packing a basket with a loaf of bread and a few peaches to take with her to work when a hard knock echoed through her flet. Confusion reflecting in her jade eyes, she pulled on a deep purple cloak atop her red dress, heavily soiled in the flour she had used to knead the dough. Looking to the clock, she sorely hoped whatever the matter was, it could be laid to rest quickly.

Opening the door, two eyes returned her own look of shock.

She was nothing like Haldir had expected.

She was about as tall as he and she had hair even longer than him. Though he couldn't see where it ended clearly, her russet-red hair clearly extended beyond the small of her back. And red hair was an oddity in elf-kind to begin with. She is staring at him with confusion and a slightly slackened jaw, which Haldir was quite sure, was the mirror of his own expression.

Barawn could not believe her eyes! The March Warden, Haldir, was at her door. She had not expected but half-heartedly to hear a reply. And had certainly could never have fathomed that her reply would come directly from the ellon. Surely he did not remember her from when she had assisted him? And Barawen knew for fact that no one ever received such a direct response from such a busy ellon. So why is he there?

Perhaps, Barawen thought, she was sought after, after all…

Haldir was quick to return his jaw back to its proper position as soon as he felt a breeze enter the orifice that had dropped in utter surprise. He held out a hand to her, as she shook the confusion from her eyes, returning the gesture.

"It is nice to meet you, fair maiden. May I call you Barawen?" he asked, pecking her hand.

Blushing a ferocious shade of pink, she laughed with nervousness.

"I don't mind, March Warden," she said drawing away her hand. "Come in for a while. I was just preparing a basket for work," she said, leading him in, sweeping more flour off of her outfit.

Haldir smirked as he watched her walk away, for her had been right. Her red-brown hair came down to her calves. Walking toward her kitchen, he noticed how messy her flet was. Stepping over recipe parchments and used utensils, he finally made it into the room, where she was packing a small bit of meat to go with her meal.

"So…," she began, blushing still and her jade optical gleaming with hope. "I must way, your arrival is a surprise. I was expecting a letter at the most but really didn't think my request would satisfy the need of your patrol."

Haldir shook his head, taking a seat on a bench in the room.

"In actuality, Barawen, I am very interested in the petition that you submitted. In my dire straits, I regret to say, I forgot the face of the one whose hands saved me. When I learned that the healer who sought to become a warrior and the one who bought me back from the brink of death were one in the same, I was compelled to meet you and to tell you in person that you are welcome to join. You may start tomorrow at dawn."

She almost fell down; dropping the knife she was using to carve her meat.

"Oh…,"she said, recovering from her personal earthquake. "Oh, Yavanna, I have had my prayers answered! I am so happy. Well, I will tell them all I will be on leave. How long is the training, Captain?" she smiled, wrapping up the meat and tucking it into her wicker basket.

He smiled and rested his hand on her basket.

"That all depends on you and how quickly you learn that what I have to teach you. However, it should not be a long study for you, the one who slayed an orc with her bare fist...Cam en Amarth..."

She gripped the wicker basket, a twinge of anger striking through her like lightning and leaving as she donned a false smile. She had not heard the eppessë in many long years and, honestly, did not wish for others to know that she and the figure spoken in whisperes were one in the same.

"I suppose that's true. Thank you for the offer. I have to get to work now. Would you like to follow me?" she said turning her back on him and biting back tears.

Haldir could hear her struggle as she walked ahead of him but could not figure out what had happened to trigger such a change in her persona. Well, there was no harm in asking.

"I am deeply sorry if I have offended you in any way," he said to her, stopping as she did.

She looked at him, her mood and jade eyes a little brighter.

"It was my fault. I just wanted to put my talent to use. I have finally figured a way to use the strengths the Valar has given me and I shouldn't be so sensitive to the Lore Names that I am given. You may still accompany me. The journey is quite lonely without a companion."

And accompany, he did.

**Authoress Chat:**** I really hope it didn't uber suck. I swear, the back story will only last another chapter before I get to the WOTR. Please don't hate me, just be patient. I have to explain her past before I get to the future, or else she would really seem like a sue. Remember to please review cause I eat reviews and they keep me alive. Plus I will give you a cookie. Much love!**

**Ja ne!**


	2. 2 Castles in the Sky

**Authoress Note:**** Thank you for reading this far, to all that are giving me a chance. I am so ecstatic to be working on this, as it is a story that is forcing me to write my best. Thanks again.**

**Oh yes, by the way, I write my stories while listening to music. Instead of trying to come up with terrible chapter names and coming up with an epic FAIL, I decided upon naming my chapters after whatever song I'm listening to as I write. Some were foreign titles though, so I came upon the first English title. So if a chapter sounds weird, you know why. ;) **

**Chapter 2-Castles in the Sky**

"This day, you all begin a new existence. You are warriors and you shall defend the city of Caras Galadhon with the last breath in your bodies. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Captain," a chorus of elven voices sounded, Barawen's among them.

Her hair had been pulled back into a bundle of loose locks, with the rest hanging freely. She had adorned a new attire of a grey tunic with a golden belt. She wore black leggings and brown riding boots, with frown leather arm guards.

Her pale green eyes gleamed with hope as she was handed a blade and a first day of her training began. The class wasn't very large, despite the need for ellyn (elves) to guard the city. There were four including Barawen that stood under the golden glow of Lórien that morn.

Her first lesson was in the sword. It did not feel heavy, as it was of elfin design, but the weight was still uncomfortable at best in her hands. The kiss of metal was a sensation she had long forgotten. It was then that she wished she were a little bigger and cursed as lightly as she could as she was partnered with a slightly bulkier ellon than the rest. Her eyebrows rose in surprise as he readied his blade, her heart racing as Barawen felt sweat stain her delicate brow.

"Mae govannen," he greeted with a smile as he bought down the weight of the blade over her body.

Reacting with a split-second judgment, Barawen met his stroke with a thrust of her own, their blades colliding just inches before her face. Her eyes were darker, an inner fire burning in her. He looked down on her, still smiling. Wondering what his problem was, Barawen kicked him in the stomach to distance him from herself. He leaned down, patting his stomach and laughing even louder. She lowered her sword to her side.

"Alright," Barawen spoke, folding her arms. "What is wrong? I cannot tell if you laugh at me or are simply insane!" she cried, tears stinging her eyes.

He looked at her with surprise, his black hair whisping in the wind. His grey eyes were piercing and intense as her own green ones. He shook his head.

"Forgive me. I did not mean to offend you. I just had to make sure that what I saw was true and correct. Let us spar, Barawen of Lórien," he sighed, coming at her with another attack.

She met with his blows at best she could but found it quite difficult. His attacks were knocking her off balance and she was struggling to keep hold of her weapon.

"How," she shouted breathlessly, "do you know me?!- I don't-even know you!" she exclaimed.

Equally as tired, but far from quitting, he continued his assault but provided a response.

"My name-is Gladhor! As for how I know you…I met your mother quite some time ago! She was a healer as well. I just saw the Noldo in you, I suppose."

Catching her in a moment of utter dumbfounded-ness, he soon found himself extremely apologetic as he had sliced her arm. It was naught but a flesh wound, but it had pierced deep enough to draw plenty of blood.

Falling to the mossy forest floor, and biting back a loud scream of pain. She cried tears instead, refusing to scream aloud as she was quite sure the shriek that would ensue could deafen any elf in range.

Looking around, worry playing on his delicate features, Gladhor began to call for assistance. The opposing training session fell silent, as Haldir rushed over to her to examine the injury. She was biting her lip until blood ran down her chin, crying rivers but she refused to make a sound.

"Are you alright?" he asked, earning a nod. Satisfied but no less worried he asked, "Can you treat it or do you need a healer?"

She looked at him, her eyes had glazed over in tears and pain and suddenly collapsed into Haldir's arms, as limp as a boned fish.

Barawen had passed out.

/ / / / /

Upon awaking in a healing hut, Barawen felt a twinge of pain and then a wave of tire. Her gaze looked around the room, looking for something cheerier than the sterile white of the room's décor.

Her jade eyes betrayed her anger as she found Gladhor was sitting beside her bed. Her brows furrowed as she observed his casually reading as if she did not have a gaping wound in her arm. She starred at him, waiting for him to notice her rise from slumber. Barawen stuck her tongue out at him, thinking how rude he was to not care if she was hurt or otherwise.

"Fierce stares will not kill me, fair maiden. However, I am sure that yours have come the closest," he jeered.

Her look remained the same and then she spoke to him in the forbidden tongue.

"_Feuya lan_ (I am disgusted with you)," she spat, about as serious as a heart attack.

He smirked, snapping the book shut and showing the first sign of interest at all.

"_A? Westalyë? _(Oh? Do you promise?)" He chuckled.

She switched back to Sindarin, her anger having been slightly sated, as she was happy to feel her native tongue dance in the air once again.

"Why have you come if all you desire is to torment me?" she sighed. "I am in enough pain already. I do not need one such as you to remind me that I was injured the very first day."

He shook his head, his grey orbs not having the courage to look her head-on.

"_Lá _(No). You misunderstand me. I came to say…I wanted to- _Áni apsenë, Sárawen_ (Forgive me, Barawen). I did not intend to strike you. I had not expected my teasing to upset you so. If it makes you feel less alone, as you have guessed, I am of Noldo descent as well. I did not mean to sound as if I despised you. I was glad to have found you. There are so few anymore…"

She smiled and then laughed a spritely laugh.

"_Avá yaia _(Stop whining)! You sound like a maiden!" she laughed.

Despite the steely words exchanged back and forth in the between time, Haldir walked into the room to find the both of them laughing amongst themselves, though both were bright red with anger and embarrassment.

/ / / / /

In the span of a year, Barawen had improved by leaps and bounds. She was quite different from when starred off. No long shy about her past of timid, she was confident in both extremes of her power. She a hard, calloused warrior but a gentle, caring friend and it was a fact that any observer could attest to.

Barawen and Gladhor had never separated from one another, graduating to the position of Border patrol at last and defending the border as quite the pair. It seemed as though they could read each other's minds in the heat of battle and each of their movements flowed in with the other's, creating a seamless deadly dance.

She had long since become a maiden of wildness, her rusty hair kept unkempt, and her jade eyes often thick with tire but full of anticipation. Gladhor had been the one to suggest to her that blue was her color and she often donned a royal blue cloak atop whichever tunic she had decided upon that duty day.

This morning was no exception.

Barawen steeped some tea leaves, completely foregoing breakfast. Just then, she heard a hard knock at the door. Smiling a toothy smile, she nearly ran to the door, opening it and was not disappointed by the visitor.

"_Manen nalyë síra, Sárawen?_ (How are you today, Barawen)" Gladhor smiled at her, leaning against the door.

Laughing, she responded.

"I am fine, fool," she giggled, walking back towards her tea kettle and pouring herself a cup, taking a seat. "_Ma iralyë_ (What do you want)?" she jeered playfully.

Holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, he told her that he wanted nothing…but her tea, of course.

Thoroughly contemplating slapping him across the face, she instead drew a fake smile on her porcelain face. "You should really hold your life in higher esteem, _Lalardo._ Sometimes I forget my own strength," she smirked, the green of her eyes hardening with mischief.

He walked up to her and grabbed her hand, earning a gasp from Barawen as his lips pecked her hand.

"_Avá fara an_ _perestanië; tuluva lyenna_ (Don't look for trouble; it will come to you)," he responded, his eyes flashing a steelier grey, mirroring her own playfulness. "I have a gift for you, _Sárawen_," he said in a serious tone.

She sipped her tea, trying to keep from bursting out laughing.

"Is that so?" she said in a returned calmness.

He leaned down until their eyes met and said in dead seriousness,

"You have to close your eyes first."

**Authoress Chat:**** Ah!!! I know! The evil cliff-hanger of DOOM! Fret not. It will make sense soon…eventually. Read & Review. All that jazz. Much love! Cookies await those that feed me with reviews. **

**-Ja ne**


	3. 3 Stronger

**Chapter 3- Stronger**

**Authoress Chat:**** Not much to put her but I will say that in Chapter 2, Barawen speaks Quenya with Gladhor and is otherwise speaking in Sindarin. In this circumstance, she will talk Sindarin and if she switches, the change WILL be announced. The two languages are quite different.**

_Flash forward two hundred years._

Barawen Russaloxë Gilrin was mounted on a black steed, galloping alongside Haldir, on the way to Helm's Deep. Her red-brown locks covered her left eye and obscured the view of her deep green eyes. Her pink lips were taut, pulled into a deep frown. She had only one thing on her mind.

Dead orcs.

Barawen followed her old captain, followed by her own platoon. She had recently, within the century, become a March Warden herself, guarding the West. For this battle, she had a breastplate crafted of silver and white gold, just for her use. She wore black arm guards and wore a royal blue cloak. Underneath her armor was a cerulean tunic and blue-black leggings. She wore black boots and an ivory long bow on her back.

Barawen the March Warden conversed with her old friend.

"Haldir, how far are we from Helm's Deep?" she asked above the roar, concern growing.

He nodded ahead and told her that it was just over the hill. He also added a word of advice.

"I worry if your anger blinds you to what lies in plain sight. Be careful, Barawen. Our Lady did not even want you to come," he said, motioning to the trumpeteer.

She smiled and looked onwards.

"Is that so? Well, even if anger did blind me and lead me on to death, it would be a glorious ending. I would die with a real smile upon my lips."

/ / / / /

"Open the gates!" the Rohanian yelled with urgency.

In flooded a great company of elves, walking tall with the grace of their people, completely oblivious to the stares. Barawen walked shoulder to shoulder with Haldir, eager to greet the King of Rohan. When she did, she was less than impressed, to be as kind as possible.

Barawen starred down, struggling to keep a smirk off of her face as she was greatly amused.

"An alliance once existed between elves and men. We come to honor that allegiance," Haldir announced, smiling towards three familiar faces.

She was equally surprised as Haldir as the ranger hugged Haldir tightly. But Haldir, once the surprise was over, grasped him lightly. She stuck her tongue to Haldir whilst giggling at his misfortune.

Her attention whipped around to him, as did the warriors that were with her.

"Don't tell me you want a hug as well," she said in a tone simply dripping with sarcasm.

A stiff look of confusion crossed his face, followed by his walking away. Barawen crossed her arms, pouting that she had not managed to ruffle his demeanor in the least. Haldir shot her a harsh look of scorn, shaking his head and then patted her on the shoulder.

"That was most in wise, Noldo-neth. It was rude and you really ought to be kinder. That wasn't necessary." He chuckled. "I have never seen him react so coldly…to an elleth, in any case."

Barawen cocked her head to the side as she followed Legolas, along with Aragorn and Gimli. Sighing in frustration, she slinked off in the same direction, sure that they were headed to someplace significant. She took a place on the highest wall, beside the company, joined by her group of ellyn.

Happenchance, that Barawen should stand shoulder to shoulder with Legolas. He looked her way but briefly, only to receive a cold stare that softened into a Cheshire grin.

"_Althelil _(you again)?" she asked, forcing a grin. "I-what's the word- apologize for my earlier rudeness. _Suil _(Greetings), my name is Barawen," she said smiling.

He shook his head and returned his gaze to the battlefield, not bothering to look when addressing the icy she-elf.

"That is a nice necklace," he said, acknowledging the ornament crafted of delicate blue glass beads, hanging upon silver threads and encrusted with a single sapphire droplet.

She touched it, her smile fading a little.

"Thank you…I don't know your name," she said in a tone that suggested she was equally as fine with remaining ignorant to that fact.

He sighed and turned to her.

"It would be better not to talk to others if you don't care about their response. It is quite unbecoming."

She looked at him with a daring expression.

"Oh? Old habits never die quietly. I suppose it is in my blood to be uneasy with those I share little bond." Barawen began to look a little distressed, and the answer why came from the sky, not the approaching orc army.

A droplet fell from the heavens. Then two. And soon rain clattered against the armor of the people occupying Helm's Deep that night. She sighed, furrowing her brow.

"Is this my punishment for rudeness?" she asked the sky, eyeing the elf out the corner of her eye. "I still do not know your name. Why did Haldir tell me to correct my behavior? He rarely ever chastises me, even when I am deathly wrong," she scoffed.

"My name is Legolas," he smiled, equally as annoyed as she.

She shook her head at her own foolishness.

"Count on me to insult the Prince of Mirkwood. Well, it matters not," Barawen said as coolly as she possibly could, though embarrassment stung her cheeks. She spoke, shaking water from her tresses. "I appreciate the knowledge though."

Taken aback by her brashness, he averted his attention to the dwarf beside him, thrashing about, trying to observe what was happening around him. But it was futile, provoking a snicker from the elleth's throat.

"What's happening out there?"

"Would you like me to describe it to you? Or would you like me to find you a box?" he said, smiling in truth this time.

Barawen broke out in a volley of laughter.

"Ha…short little orc," she spat at Gimli, who responded in a more forthright way than Legolas. He refused to hear any apology.

"If our company provokes such rudeness, you may find accommodations elsewhere lass."

Surprised by the lower beings frankness with her, Barawen actually did silence herself, crossing her arms and waiting. The silence was pierced as arrow pierced one of the foul beasts in the neck, causing both sides to fall deathly still. Arms still folded, ready to grasp her sword.

They were riled up, their leaders cry of anger, spurring the Uruk-hai into action. Still, her face remained stoic. In fact, her eyes were closed and Barawen's soft breath, steady, slightly humming a silvery tune. Legolas was completely confused but put the thought out of his mind.

"_Tangado halad_ (prepare to fire)!" Aragorn shouted. Everyone notched an arrow.

Excluding Barawen. Her eyes now open; she starred down on the uruk, with a hatred pure and true. It was nearly as foul and off-putting as the creatures on the receiving end of it.

Legolas spoke softly.

"_Faeg i- varvdîn na lanc a nu ranc_ (their armor is weak at the neck and beneath the arms)."

Barawen smirked, waiting for her chance.

"_Leithio I philinn_ (release the arrows)!" Aragorn ordered.

Barawen did not budge an inch as arrows whizzed by her head, the elves arrows killed many, and more followed the first volley. The humans inside the fortress followed shortly afterwards, raining down death upon their foes.

Gimli shouted for them to 'deliver themselves'. He got his wish as they began to throw up ladders.

"_Pendraid _(ladders)!" Aragorn shouted. "Swords, swords!"

"Good," the dwarf huffed with excitement, readying his axe. Legolas readied himself as well, noticing Barawen slipping on a pair of black gloves.

Her hands were balled into fists and Legolas could feel the hostility rolling off of her. It was disturbing. But he couldn't be distracted. Just then, an Uruk-hai jumped up at her. Screaming in fury, she reared back and punched with all her might, as a well-noticed tear rolled down her face. The foul beast received his reward for his mindless bloodlust and it was death, falling to the ground with a crushed skull. Barawen punched a few more before cutting the line and re-sheathing her sword. Legolas was taken aback.

'Did she really just kill those Uruk-hai with her bare hands? Who is she?' he thought, slicing an uruk's throat with his twin knives.

Barawen barreled towards a gigantic uruk, punching him so hard his helmet flew from his crown. She grabbed a fistful of his gritty hair and held him an inch from her face, screaming in Quenya.

"_Qualmë orquinnar_ (death to the orcs)!" she yelled, grasping his hair tighter and kicking him in the midsection, ripping out his hair in chunks. As he screeched, she punched him in the jaw, disjointing it from his head. His death would be painful and slow.

The dance was dead.

Eloquence was forgotten.

There was only a desire to kill.

And Legolas could see that it that turbulent sea of green, that the desire was all-consuming.

**Authoress Chat:**** Aye, curse me. :) Oh well…I just gave you two hints about something that is quite important. So read and review. And don't be a stranger, as I have a phone that allows me to read constantly on and means that pm's are my best friend. Thank you. I baked cookies!**

**-Ja ne**


	4. 4 Time of Dying

**Authoress Chat:**** I have gotten some feedback on my first chapter. I do realize that it has notable flaws and I did fix them and will rewrite the chapter but not now. It is too tedious to do mid-story and I a lot of story to type. I've also given myself a touch of carpal tunnel in toil with this story. So please, be patient. I will fix it but as you see, I did make those corrections. I always welcome concrit and I thank you for your time reviewing my work. Please enjoy this chapter.**

**Chapter 4- Time of Dying**

"Is this it? Is this all you can conjure, Saruman?" King Théoden asked to no one in particular.

Sometimes questions are answered. His was, almost instantaneously so, as some Uruk-hai threw spiked bombs into the breach of the Deeping wall that was used as a drain. Soon, an uruk carrying a torch was running forward like a berserker.

Aragorn took to notice, yelling at Legolas to 'Bring him down!' but it raced towards the target in spite of the effort. "_Dago hon! Dago hon! _(Kill him! Kill him!)", the ranger shouted.

Legolas quickly shot again but to no avail; as he went down, the uruk dove headfirst into the culvert, completing his task.

The result was the Deeping wall being blown apart, throwing men and elves in all directions. Most were killed instantly. Barawen, luckily, was one who only managed to be stunned. Uruk-hai charged into the Deep, through the torrent of water. Aragorn, on the ground now, got up, covered in mud, water and lacerations.

Gimli shouted for his friend and was relieved to hear a response. Aragorn was overpowered, struggling as he commanded the elves that survived in Sindarin to 'release their arrows.' Gimli, now at his side, Aragorn got into a stance.

"_Herío_ (charge!)" he shouted, raising his sward and engaging in combat, hand-to-hand.

Meanwhile, Barawen, who was still slightly disoriented, drew her sword at last. No longer able to focus her strength, she began slicing with a ferociousness that could easily be mistaken for madness. She caught Legolas out of the peripheral vision of her eye and had never been so thankful to the Valar to see a face that she disliked so much.

Legolas called to her and she felt her body obey, against her minds wishes, her will to live trumping her stubbornness. He grasped her and got on a shield, sliding down the stairs to join the heat of battle. She felt her weight settle on the shield as he let her go to begin shooting the hideous beings attempting to thwart him.

"That's twenty-seven!" Legolas shouted gleefully to Gimli as his descent ended.

'Unbelievable,' she thought. 'The elf, befriending a little gem thieving troll and making sport of their killings in the thick of battle! Some prince!' she was appalled but momentarily. 'Though, if this is a game…'

"Twenty-eight!" she shouted, beheading an orc before the young prince, earning a chuckle.

Maybe, he thought, she was not as bad as he originally assumed.

"We will see if you keep that lead!" he shouted, resuming his game.

The battle dragged onwards and her mood softened as she began to enjoy her slaying in a much more light-hearted way. Suddenly, Gamling cried out to them.

"Aragorn! Fall back to the Keep! Get your men out of there!" he shouted.

Nodding, Aragorn yelled to Haldir.

"Na barad! Na barad! Haldir, na barad!"

Haldir nodded and began calling back his platoon. Mentally smacking herself, Barawen realized how far she was from her own group and yelled the same command at them as loudly as her feminine voice could go. The message, by Eru was relayed, causing her to breathe in relief as she rushed back to the keep, followed by Legolas and Gimli.

Then a scream pierced the night. It was familiar and made her blood run cold. Barawen saw that Haldir had been wounded but sighed in happiness as she saw that Haldir had been able to kill his attacker. Neither he nor his old friend saw the second attacker, who struck him deep in his back, forcing the air from his lungs.

Barawen let out a blood-curdling shriek, time ceasing to move fluidly, as Legolas and Gimli saw her guard fall and offered her support as she rushed blindly to his side, Aragorn swift on her heels.

Barawen got there in time to have him fall into her arms, unmoving. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas watched the arrogant red-head cry frantically as she cradled his corpse. His death was tearing her apart, so much so that the Quenya curses flowed out of her, unabashed.

"Haldir! HALDIR!" she screamed, Aragorn trying to tear her away. But she was string for a female. "_Áni apsenë, Haldir! Hehtalyë túrë?! Nanyë sinomë nestatal_! (Forgive me, Haldir! Do you yield/give up? I am here to heal you)! "

She finally dropped his body, realizing her cries were simply futile and that by now he would have asked her what in all of Middle-earth she was speaking about. But the grief could not be quelled. She sought more blood and, upon attempting to collect on it, Legolas and Aragorn had to pick her up and drag her off the battlefield.

/ / / / /

Once in the refuge, Barawen was taken to rest, whilst some of her subordinates attempted to comfort her. But there was no comfort in those halls for the she-elf. Soon, almost everyone had left her to her devices, attempting to secure the door.

The castle was breached and she carried herself away to a corner, followed by her comrades. Reclining against a wall, silent tears fell from her eyes, clouding them in a veil of sorrow. She barely paid attention as Théoden heaped on more depressing news.

"The fortress is taken! It is over!"

"You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it! They still defend it! They have died defending it! "Aragorn yelled back, helping Legolas drag a bench over to barricade the door.

Barawen could hear the cries of anguish resounding from the caves. And for a moment, she thought of Haldir.

"_I wanted to be a Guardian of my People. To heal them is not enough. If I can keep them from harm in the first place, then why should I not? I welcome this burden…thank you for believing in me."_

_And she hugged Haldir as he awarded her the title of March Warden._

"_I gave you nothing. Everything you have is your own reward, purchased through your own toil and sacrifice. I could not be prouder. My sister by bond. Gwathel Barawen."_

More tears fell from her, as the memory had appeared of its own accord. She wondered if she had earned this death as Gimli and Legolas returned to her side.

"I grieve for ye, lass. But this is not the time for tears. We will commemorate him. Aye, that is an oath. But now is your time to make sure his death wasn't meaningless."

She cried, standing tall, clutching her sword and throwing it aside. She gripped her gloves tighter.

"No. They started this. And I will end it. Not with mercy. I will break every last orc I see," she hissed through her teeth, venom hanging on every word.

Legolas had greatly misjudged her. Her shell was thick. Crude. But a façade. She was deeply caring, even playful. And intensely loyal. So much so that she throw away her life for vengeance.

"We will slay them together, Barawen," he held out his hand.

Looking at him with mossy eyes, she nodded and accepted his gesture.

"Yes, Legolas," she sneered. "We shall."


	5. 5 Simple and Clean

**Chapter 5-Simple and Clean**

**Authoress Chat:**** I wanted to take this time to make it abundantly clear that those of you who claim that I don't know jack shit about elvish naming traditions can shut the hell up. I do know that they did not use surnames. When Legolas was called Legolas Thranduillion by Haldir, was Haldir using as a surname? Of course not. By giving her father name, which is NEVER to be changed, I gave honor to her Noldorin roots. Also, I WILL FIX the friggin' mistake of calling her heritage Quenyan at first. Will you let me fix it? Goddamn…**

"Ride out with me," Aragorn said to Théoden. "Ride out and meet them."

The King's expression filled with determination.

"For death and glory," the king replied.

"For Rohan…for your people."

"The sun is rising," Gimli stated as the bright light shone through the window. Then Aragorn remembered.

"_Look to my coming at the first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east."_

"Yes. Yes! The horn of Helm Hammerhead shall sound in the Deep one last time!" King Théoden shouted.

"YES!" Gimli yelled in response, as he hurried up the steps to blow the horn.

"Let this be the hour when we draw swords together," Théoden said, clapping a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. There was ferociousness in the eyes of him, Aragorn and the other comrades.

This was going to be their end, so it should be one for the history books.

"FORTH, EORLINGAS!" King Théoden bellowed when he heard the horn sound in the Deep. Then, he led a charge out of the doors and through a sea of Uruk-hai. Barawen, atop her steed, kicked orc to their dooms, not caring how they died, so long as it was one less orc in the world.

A blinding light poured from the hilltops, drawing Gandalf's name from Aragorn's lips.

"Théoden King stands alone," Gandalf said, looking down on the battle below.

"Not alone," Éomer called, raising an arm and provoking a charge, spearheaded by the wizard Gandalf.

Shadowfax leaped over the hills, Uruk-hai aiming spears at the battalion but falling back as the white light of purity had blinded them. The Rohirrim joined, followed by Théoden. The battle continued, slaying every uruk in sight as their battling spirit was revived.

/ / / / /

Blood and tear stained, a ruined elleth sat in the Deep, surrounded by orc bodies. She sat down on the part of the wall that had not been blown to bits, near where Haldir had fallen, but the bodies were almost trampled flat. She could not tell where he was, only that his spirit had lingered, watching her grieve and mourned her sad soul.

She began to cry as her platoon (or what had survived) came to her.

"What are our orders now?" one of them asked, his eyes casting a pitying glance on her.

She inhaled, re-gathering her strength.

"You will go forth. Return to Lothlórien. I shall stay, as your Captain's mentor has passed and left her with much work to do. My soul is tethered to this world so long as the Ring is tethered to the same."

Drying her cheeks, Barawen walked into the Hornburg alone. She was walking with a new determination, though sadness still held a grip on her fëa (soul). The first person she stopped at was Legolas. He was talking to Gimli, but he did acknowledge her.

"I apologize, prince of Mirkwood. I behaved in an unbecoming manner and I regret it with all of me." She paused. "The number was forty, in the end…"

She spun on her heel and walked away, retrieving the sword she had cast aside earlier and refastening it to her person. Legolas thought to say something back but a feeling from deep within told him that it was not the correct time to respond. Her conscience was a great whirlpool of emotion and it was taking all of her spirit to keep those emotions hidden from the others.

"That is a strange lass. But she is not as arrogant as she likes to pretend she is," Gimli said, puffing on a pipe.

Legolas nodded in agreement.

"Alas, I believe you are correct. She will talk to others when the time is right."

Barawen found the King of Rohan. Bowing to him as she should have at first meeting, she looked at him in a serious manner.

"Your highness, I have a few things to do and I have to hope to Elbereth that you shall let me accomplish them. The first is to see to the injured. Please, take me into the caves. I must help those that can be saved."

/ / / / /

Barawen had pulled up her hair into a ponytail and taken off her gloves. As Gandalf and Théoden led her to the caves, she remained stoic. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had followed, wishing to discuss the next course of action.

"I need a large tub of water and I will need it quickly," she said to a woman aiding the injured. "Do not bother yourself by bandaging them. There is more harm to do that than anything as of now. I will take care of this."

Barawen pulled up a chair to an elderly male who was sliced from chest to hip and was gurgling blood. He was sweating and probably running a fever. She placed her hand to the side of the wound and pushed down as her palms glowed an eerie purple color.

The eyes watching her grew wide in awe, wondering what was taking place. As the female bought her the tub she had requested, Barawen turned to Legolas and Aragorn.

"Please, hold him. This will not feel pleasant for him and he his movement may make me unsuccessful. I need him to be as stationary as possible." Her eyes narrowed in pain.

Legolas held the man's shoulders as Aragorn held his legs. Then the procedure began. Barawen's eyes shut as she groaned and pushed down harder. Her other hand whipped out to a place over the wound as a black tar-like substance was pulled out in rivers. He struggled to be let up but Aragorn and Legolas held him fast. She cried out in pain, as he did, begging for an end to agony as she tossed the blackness into the pool of water.

Legolas and Aragorn gazed with intensity as both hands shifted over to the wound and the wound began to mend, gathering itself into a long scar. She stopped, panting hard as she wiped her brow free of sweat.

Barawen sat up, dragging the pail over to the next critically injured male.

"What was that?!" Legolas and Aragorn said in near unison.

She panted, setting herself at the man's bedside.

"It was infection. Their blades are filthy. They can make even a simple flesh wound deadly, so I must draw it out. Will you hold the others?"

Swat rolled down her brow as she huffed for dear life. Aragorn and Legolas took their positions.

"Are you alright?" Legolas asked in concern.

"I will be shortly. It is only the mind that hurts; there is no damage to me."

Barawen drew out the filth of their wounds with much pain and labor, for at least an hour. She shed the tears of pain, sharp and true, as she cast the last gathering of illness into a pitch black tub of ruin and disease.

Gasping and wheezing, she fell to the floor in a tumultuous bit of pain. Aragorn held her up, in spite of her efforts to push him away. Her stubbornness was both infuriating as well as pitiful. Did she not understand that the cavern floor was surely less comfortable and would ease her suffering none?

"You must rest," he assured her. "If you do not, you will pass on with those who fell under orc blades. Do you want that?" he said, cradling her closer as she finally gave up.

"I concede," she sighed, catching her breath slowly. Her emerald gaze fell on his eyes and she smirked, her body shivering, her pain white-hot. "Do not let this count as a victory in your mind. I will not be helped by you or another again. It is…shameful."

Her head rested on his chest, her consciousness completely exhausted from her stubborn work. Her body was limp, in a deep slumber.

"She is a feisty lass; I think she would have fought ye longer had she the strength, Aragorn," Gimli huffed, chuckling at the Eldar before them.

Aragorn laid the healer on a cot and nodded.

"When I first saw her, I was not sure if what I heard was correct. She is one of the Noldor, many ages old and fought with her people long ago. They called her by the name of _Thalion-ranc_ and _Cam en Amarth_. But the title I know came from Elrond himself. She studied healing at great lengths, under his tutelage, becoming known by her best-known epessë, _Cam en Galad._ The hand of light. Her skill had slipped out of my mind until I bore witness to it. And I am thankful that Lady Galadriel sent her to us," he said, walking away.

**Authoress Note: Just for your knowledge...Her names translate as follows.**

**Thalion-ranc:(S) Strong Arm**

**Cam en Amarth:(S) Hand of Doom**


	6. 6 White Robe

**Authoress Chat:**** Thank you for even coming this far. I feel so privileged to have people read my work and if even one person likes it, then I have accomplished my goal. I REALLY poured my soul into this work so enjoy it. Thank you very much.**

**Chapter 6-White Robe**

_Her mother was crying as she wiped the blood off of Sárawen's cheek. Her beautiful white-blonde hair was flying as the winds of the sea mourned the Teleri that had fallen beneath her husband's blade. _

"_Today, you will be known as Sárawen and hopefully, will have many more names to come. I will give you a portion of my power, my daughter, to keep you safe."_

_Her mother, a beautiful bright green eyed Vanya, named Meryë Hendusailë Náretári, placed her fair palm to her daughter's hands and they were imbued with a silvery aura that faded to nothingness._

_Her mother was the only Vanya to join the rebellious Noldor, as her love for her husband was greater than her fear of the Prophecy of the North. She would fall with him if separated and so she bore away, along with her daughter, who had just come of age._

_Until that day, she had bore the name of Russaloxë. But no more. Her nature had been defined as she stood with her people, full of pride and the determination of the Noldor._

_Sárawen, the fiery maiden._

_Her mother had playfully referred to her as such all the years of her life, yet only now did that become her name of endearment. And it strangled tears from her delicate fëa. _

_Her mother, fair and golden, clad in grey, kept with her and her father, Aváru, through the burning of the boats, through the upheavals with Melkor, and unto the breaking of Beleriand, when she was called back to the Land of Arda. _

/ / / / /

Barawen awoke, lying in a cot that was being moved from Helm's Deep back to Edoras. Grunting, she gathered her iron will, sitting up. She starred at the human carting her off.

"Unless you find it utterly rewarding to lug around a body, let me up and ease yourself," she said, attempting to rise.

The male halted, as she got up and shook her hair free of all the debris possible. Nodding, she began to walk behind the humans, leaving the man in awe of her elegance. He whispered, though she heard him.

"You were the lightest body I have bore. It was my honor…"

The trek was long without her steed, but she let the idle chatter in the background occupy her mind. Humans really were fools! Speaking of feasts and so giddy for those who had lived through the great peril.

What of those that laid at their gravesite at Helm's Deep? What about those far too maimed to distinguish and be buried by those that wished to bid them a final farewell? What of friends who had believed in you even as you made an absolute dunce of yourself?

Tears ran clearly down her face.

Then a hand touched her arm.

Barawen starred down to see whom had touched her. It was a frail human female, with hair of straw and eyes of a dull blue. She made Barawen want to swat her away.

"Yes?" she asked in a frigid tone.

"I see that you wear a suit of armor. The elves allowed you to fight?" she asked.

Barawen shot her a stare full of thought and wisdom, the first show of her ages.

"Yes, clearly," she snapped. "I have been a fighter from the day my feet touched the shores of Middle-earth and I was allowed to fight by a most admirable Lady, the greatest of my kin left on these lands. Does that suffice?" she said coldly.

She continued to stare.

"Well…I just want to know what it is like to fight alongside your kin," she whispered, finding it impossible to look into those piercing orbs any longer.

Barawen looked away as well.

"What is your name?" she asked the human, who looked up, in spite of her shame.

"My name? It is Éowyn. Why do you ask?"

Barawen smirked.

"I asked so that I would know the name of one so foolish and stupid as to wish war as a viable option. Do you think, honestly, that there is any renown in fighting? If you were to really see what it is like, you would not be so eager. Unless, that is, you have some score in mind to settle. But alas! That hatred will never leave you! So why is that the fate you choose for yourself, silly, foolish girl?!"

Her intensity had refocused on Éowyn, who was absolutely flabbergasted at the gaul of the elleth before her. How rude! How cruel! To think…to even suggest that her suffering in some way dwarfed her own!

"You are not the only to suffer! I have lost my family to those evil beasts! I have already seen death! I wish to fight, so that makes me foolish? Well, then, that is fine. But I would rather be a fool all my days than to become what you are, you wretched soul!"

Éowyn looked away, trying to keep her tears hidden from the elf at hand. However, Barawen would not let it end with harsh feelings. The Eldar had spoken no lie to her; however, the truth was not easy for one who had only the span of one lifetime to understand.

"You misunderstand me, Éowyn. There is honor in defending what is yours. There is honor in fighting sometimes. But that sorrow that war leaves behind never fades. No matter how long you fight, no matter how many orc are killed, you will never be rid of your hate. And it can blind you…yoke you to your death or to the deaths of those you hold dear. And after a time, there will be no solace for you. And I do know. I was there to see it."

Barawen then left Éowyn to her tears as she shed a few of her own, once far out of sight.

/ / / / /

The trek was long and tiring but Barawen made it at long last to Edoras and helped the people prepare their lives. She and Éowyn did not speak again. For Éowyn, it was because the truth of her words had pierced deep. For Barawen, it was because she saw so much of herself in Éowyn that it could not even be poked fun at.

Barawen did, however, receive fine treatment from one of the handmaidens of the Great Halls. The human woman helped the elleth to wash herself and to comb through the thickness of her tangled hair, as Barawen had refused to cut her tresses until she set foot in Arda once more.

Once clean, Barawen was dressed in a fine silk dress of deep green, laced in gold. The arms flared out, overtop of golden sleeves and there was tied a golden braided belt around her waist. A portion of her hair was braided, while the rest was allowed to hang freely. Barawen felt deep in her heart that her body may be clean but her fëa was tiring. She would need to complete her mission quickly if she had any hope of seeing her _Atar _(father-Q)and _Ammë _(mother-Q) again.

The sun was falling as Barawen caught sight of her kin and his odd company returning. The fellowship was quite a mixed breed, she laughed to herself. She was glad to have been called to help it.

Barawen took part in the commemoration of the slain (Or "the victorious dead", as human kind so eloquently put it. Which was an entirely stupid concept, as well as any oxymoron) and attempted to mingle with the men and keep her temper in check. She had already upset a great deal more people than she cared to.

She saw Legolas and Gimli at the table with the men of Rohan. It was a boisterous environment for certain and she could smell the alcohol. Still, she had a score to settle with the prince she had offended.

She walked over and listened.

"So…it's a drinking game?" Legolas asked.

Gimli laughed merrily.

"Last one standing wins!"

Barawen smiled, a kind knowing gesture, and walked up to them both.

"I'll take a pint," she said, keeping her secrets. She knew that it would be a competition at the end between her and the prince.

Éomer, lifting an eyebrow, handed her a pint, as she had asked.

"Are you certain you will fare well in this game?"

She smiled and nodded.

"I am, young one. Thank you for the courtesy," she said, taking a deep sip out of the mug, tasting the bitter liquid.

She was correct. It all came down to the Dwarf, and she and her kin. The dwarf was going to fall down any time now. She was sure of it. Her eye's wandered over to Éomer, smiling at him, begging him to watch…bear witness to her antics.

Legolas put down his pint, starring curiously at his fingertips. She looked as she placed down her last pint. She grinned, trying her best to appear as friendly as possible. She succeeded as he smiled back at her, still casting the occasional odd glance at his fingers.

"Is something wrong, _Thranduillion_?" she teased.

He laughed.

"My fingers tingle. It is affecting me," he said, concern lingering in his words.

She looked over her shoulder as Gimli went cross-eyed and fell into a drunken stupor. Laughing her first, Legolas reflected on how kind it was. She was so curious to him. She was coarse to the naked eye but down in her fëa, there was a soft core of tenderness. It was small but it did exist. And in this time of her ease and grief, it screamed to be released. Her pride was killing her gentle spirit.

She sneered, the kindness going in a flash of hot-headedness.

'It figures that her fairness should be a mirage. I should have known,' he scolded himself.

"I challenge you, Legolas Thranduillion!" she yelped in a cheery pitch.

"Oh yes?"

She slammed her hand on the table and gleamed with an inner determination.

"Indeed! I shall absolutely not accept no as your answer! If I win this competition, you shall accept my apologies from earlier and I shall be allowed to redeem myself!"

Shaking his head in awe at her stubbornness, he toasted to her and the game continued in a similar fashion. But it was not enough! She was hoping and praying she should win, not willing to call it quits, even as her body began to tingle. Not that she had any doubt that she would win…but the game had to end. There was no more liquor. Cursing, she slammed down the pint and staggered away outside, to enjoy the peace of night, leaving a very confused Legolas behind.

/ / / / /

Barawen grasped her knees as she cried in anguish. Why did the Valar choose to call Haldir home to Mandos? He was her only friend left. She clutched her necklace in pain as she called forth an eerily similar memory.

"_Foul orcs!" she screamed, punching the ones nearest her beloved into the dirt._

_Barawen held him, his body shaking and cold to the touch, even though he still lived. Her hands glowed with a lilac power and she began to draw the sickening infection from his jagged wounds. But instead, he grasped her hand._

"_No."_

_She tried to move, tears threatening to break through at any time._

"_Let me heal y-"_

"_Vá! (No!)" He yelled, blood bursting from his mouth. "Muinë Indis (Beloved Bride), this is my time. Nalyë melmë cuilenya (You are the love of my life.) Ma melilyen, Sárawen? (Do you love me, Barawen?)"_

_She couldn't stop the tears, shaking her head._

"_Ná__! (Yes!)Nanyë sinomë nestatal! (I am here to heal you!)Hehtalyë túrë? (Do you yield/ give up?) " she screamed at him._

_He nodded, closing his eyes and smiling._

"_Ná…Did I ever tell you- Melinyë tiríë hedulyar silina írë lálalyë (I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh). Captain…never stop smiling. I wish to see it from the Hall of Mandos…"_

_She cried even harder._

"_Vá__! Lalardo! Nalyë melmë cuilenya…do not leave me. I love you…my future groom."_

_He reached out to touch her face._

"_This is my end," he said, smiling weakly. "Do not weep. Haryal hórë?(Are you ready)"_

She did not hear Legolas approach over her sobs. And they tore him apart.


	7. 7 Teeth

**Authoress Note: ****Please note that I have made a companion to this story. It's called 'In the Garden of Lórien' and is the story of her life in Valinor and her parents love for her. It is a true love story and I hope it really adds more light to her parents. So…yeah, I'm sort of bouncing back and forth between the two. Without any further adu, I present you (keep in mind that I take my titles form songs) Chapter Seven.**

**Chapter Seven- Teeth**

For such a caring, yearning core, there was an overcast of great sorrow. She was even sadder than she had been at Helm's Deep. He sat next to her, laying a friendly hand on her shoulder, which startled the Eru out of her. She wiped her puffy eyes and wiped her head around, not daring to look him in the eye.

He sighed and looked to the sky.

"You do not have to be so stubborn…nor do you have to shoulder this great anguish alone," he said to her, perceiving that she had not meant to be seen crying.

She shook her head.

"That is my curse. That fool, Éowyn, wishes to follow in my footsteps, but that road has done naught but sow the fruit of misery. This was my fate for following my father to war and I see now that this wretched blood is cursed! Everyone who has meant anything to me is dead and gone. If that is the 'warrior's renown' that she seeks, then she is a moron! I have pushed everyone away from me!"

Legolas nodded and held and held her close.

"You were quite rude, I will say. And I have not forgotten. And I will pay you back in due time. However, I have accepted that as your way. And the fact that I did not forget should not suggest that I have any ill will towards you. You have a much kinder side to you and that is the personality that I see before me. What is it, besides the death of your fellow march warden, which makes you so dreadfully unhappy? "

She gritted her teeth and clutched his tunic, allowing the plentiful sobs to fall from her at once.

"This shall not-reach anyone else! Do you hear, Thranduillion?" she said with determination, despite her sobs.

Smiling, he nodded.

"Oh, Legolas," she sighed. "You are young. And you have not seen half as many wars as I. But each plucks at the seams of my heart. Haldir was all I had remaining of my close kin. And there is a void…I cannot replace it with anything, no matter how much fervor I go forth with in this life. It is still not enough. I have failed my beloved Gladhor and Haldir, both. All of my kin now reside in Valinor, leaving me with this burden. Is this how I must survive?"

He understood.

And it made sense.

She spoke of a man named Gladhor and of Haldir. Both of whom were slain by the orc of Mordor and Isengard. How awful for an elf to survive on the hope of hatred. She was literally hanging by a thread of vengeance. Legolas rubbed her rusty wreath of hair.

"You are correct. I am young and cannot hope to understand the plight of the Noldor. But I do understand your pain. Do not keep this within. It will destroy you. Hate will blind you."

She pushed herself away from the prince.

"You sound like Haldir," she spat. "And of the men in my command who implored me not to go to Helm's Deep. But what shall I do? Shall I relinquish all hatred and let those vile beasts walk free? I appreciate your concern, Thranduillion, but I will have none of your council when it comes to that. Before I sail away, I shall see this mission to its end," she said, pushing herself away.

She clutched her necklace so tight that her knuckles went white.

"Is that a token of his love for you?" he asked, wishing that he had not said the words before which had distanced her as quickly as she had drawn near,

She nodded, telling him of Gladhor's death and his profession of love for her earlier that week, asking for her hand in marriage.

Grief consuming her, she took off into the Halls of Edoras, leaving a confused ellon in her wake.

/ / / / /

Legolas did not leave the area, watching the skies eagerly, as Aragorn came up behind him. They stood side by side, casting each other a glance of acknowledgment.

"A shadow stirs in the east. A sleepless malice. The eye of the enemy is moving."

Aragorn turned to his friend.

"I saw Barawen earlier this eve. She was quite upset. Did she say anything to you yet about Haldir?" he asked.

Legolas put his hand to his lips, pretending to lock them and throw away the proverbial key. Aragorn smiled at his friend's antics.

"Fine. Keep your secrets. I only hope that you were not the source of any of her grief."

Legolas smiled back, answering just as playfully.

"Of course not. I was a perfect gentleman. I shall leave the matter at a simple expression of emotions, stirring long before the battle at Helm's Deep. She will heal in time. Do not dig for more information that she is willing to give. She will just close up."

Aragorn raised a brow.

"You say so from personal experience?"

Again, the woodland prince's lips were so sealed. A brief moment of silliness passed as the elf's body became taut.

"He is here."

**Authoress Note:**** Okay, okay. Listen up, I need you guy's help. I do not have a fucking clue how to go from here. Everything I write seems like shit on paper. So I need suggestions. Does she go to Gondor with Gandalf or does she stay with Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli? Also, what happens with the palant****í****r? I don't know. I'm very confused. And until the writer's block is gone, I will be writing fodder chapters. Seriously.**


	8. 8 Cry Me A River

**Authoress Note: **** Writer's block be damned! I have the juice again! So rejoice. All that jazz…I give you Chapter Eight!**

**Chapter Eight- Cry Me A River**

Barawen did not find much rest in the Halls of Edoras. Her conscience was burdened with her earlier reactions. Indeed, she had let her pride lead her to believe that other people were not important to her well-being. However, if this eve had showed her anything, it was that her pride would continue to betray her. This world was all she could connect with for the meantime. She was swallowed that fact, as she received help undressing herself and returning into her now cleaned tunic and leggings.

Barawen retired herself to the room where the female guests were staying. It was cozier, as they had stolen away the finer furs and blankets, much to her pleasure. Aye, she would sleep with ease in these Halls. Or so she thought.

As Barawen began to tie back her long hair, Éowyn came through the door. The two caught a stiff gaze, wrought with emotion, before Éowyn broke the silence.

"Hello, Lady Barawen," she said, handing the elleth a night robe which was met with refusal.

Swallowing her petty ego, Barawen spoke to her.

"Éowyn, I give you thanks for your hospitality. Alas, I have not earned any of it. I spoke earlier of a hurt that did not stem from any action of yours. If it is any excuse, I was quick to anger because I saw much of my own heart in yours. You are strong in spirit and if you raise your arm in war, I am certain that the hand will heavy. Your heart is that of a King and I was so very wrong to despair."

Éowyn, albeit surprised, did nod and grasp the elleth's brush.

"I accept your words as truth and I thank you for them. I did doubt myself, but not anymore. Wherever did you learn your strength? Is it a trait of your people?" Éowyn asked helping her guest with the locks she had helped to re-tangle.

Barawen glanced in a remembrance of events long ago.

"Yes. And no…My power is a pitiful imitation of my father's. It is he who taught me this strength before he sent my mother and I on our way to brave the Grinding Ice. I have had many ages to master it. It should not amaze you so," she said in a very humbled tone.

Éowyn nearly dropped her brush.

"Oh my! Surely _that_ must be an heirloom of Kings," she smiled. "And your healing? Did your father pass that to you?"

"No. That is my mother's hand. And it too, is a pitiful mirror to her talent. Both of them have seen the light of the two trees and have learned great secrets of the Valar. They reside now in Valinor."

Barawen admired the sheen of her hair when it was properly cared for and smiled. That was before she heard the echo of discord.

"I must leave for a time," Barawen said, hopping up and rushing out of the door, leaving the new human friend behind.

/ / / / /

Barawen ran, fists clenched, fully prepared to do her worst. The feeling that pulled her closer was so great in its evil, that she could feel it on her skin. Barawen was so preoccupied with the raucous in her ear that she crashed headlong into the bodies of Legolas and Aragorn. Her fist landed inches away from Aragorn's head as she fell in a rather awkward position on top of him.

Starring briefly at the hole beside his head, she leapt up, blushing a fierce red.

"Apologies for the attack," she gasped before running with them towards the room where the evil and pain was the strongest. She slammed the door open, almost de-hinging it, and was appalled at the sight.

One of the hobbits that had come with Éomer and his company was on the floor, a flaming orb in his hands, as his body arched and flinched as if someone were striking his backside. It was such that she thought to knock the orb out of his grasp but every molecule in her hroa (body) told her not to.

Aragorn did not receive the same memorandum.

He had grasped it fully and his reward was pain. Aragorn fell into Legolas' arms as the flaming sphere rolled across the ground. Gandalf threw a blanket over the glass orb. "Fool of a Took!" he shouted as he looked over at Pippin, who appeared quite dead.

Barawen did not sense any emptiness though and his tell that he was still in the land of the living. She began to run to him but Gandalf had pushed her aside. Feeling jilted, but knowing that he was probably in better hands, Barawen backed down.

The wizard placed his hand atop Pippin's forehead and mumbled something incoherent, causing the hobbit to stir in shock and confusion, screaming in pure fear.

"Look at me," Gandalf whispered.

"Gandalf…forgive me," the hobbit said, letting his eyes close for a moment, as if he were going to lose consciousness.

"Look at me." This wizard did not ask this time. "What did you see?"

Pippin thought for a moment before he gave his shaky response.

"A…A tree. There was a white tree in a courtyard of stone. It was dead. The city was burning…"

Gandalf thought for a moment, as his expression became even grimmer.

"Minas Tirith… is that what you saw?" He continued to hold Pippin's cheek, attempting to calm him.

"I saw…I saw him!" Pippin cried in fright, as if the Dark Lord were still in front of him.

Everyone's breath hitched, as if they too had seen him or as if by mentioning him, he could reach out form the palantír. The air became terribly serious, weighted with fear and apprehension.

"I could hear his voice in my head," he cried out in terror.

"And what did you tell him? Speak!" the wizard shouted.

The hobbit paused, before speaking again.

"He asked me my name…I didn't answer. He hurt me."

The wizard damn near shook him, as he had not received the answer that he needed.

"What did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?!"

/ / / / /

There was gathering that morning with all of the major players. Théoden, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Barawen had joined, along with the two hobbits, Merry and Pippin.

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes. A fool…but an honest fool he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring," Gandalf stated clearly, easing many minds that morn. "We have been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw in the palantír a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Sauron moves strike the city of Minas Tirith," Gandalf stated.

Tension grew thick with those words. The city of Kings could not fall to the enemy. It would be far to crushing to recover from, Barawen thought.

"Hid defeat at Helm's Deep showed out enemy one thing. He knows that the heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still. Strength enough to challenge him…Sauron fears this. He will not rick the peoples of Middle-earth uniting under one banner."

Barawen gulped in dread as she understood the gravity of the wizard's words.

"He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return to the throne!"

Barawen spoke up, breaking the great silence that had befallen them.

"What does this mean?" she asked, her eyes darkening in despair.

"If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war," Gandalf answered.

Théoden, through a tightened jaw, gave his response.

"Tell me, why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"

Aragorn cast him a questioning look and then looked to Gandalf.

"I will go," said the ranger.

"No," the wizard said, completely dismissing the idea.

"They must be warned!" Aragorn said in his defense.

"They will be," Gandalf assured the ranger. "I ride for Minas Tirith…and I won't be going alone," he said looking at Pippin.

/ / / / /

"Of all the inquisitive young hobbits, Peregrine Took, _you_ are the worst! Hurry up!" Gandalf ordered as Pippin lagged behind the elder.

On the way to the stable, Gandalf and Pippin ran into Barawen. It did appear that she has been waiting for them, as she had been leaned against the post. The wizard nodded her way, in acknowledgment.

"Thank you, elleth of the Galadhrim, for your assistance in our battles. However, this is a matter that will be dealt with in haste," he assured.

Barawen smiled sweetly and nodded.

"Of course. I did not presume to stop you or to impede your journey. I only have a small parting gift for the hobbit," she said, kneeling before him.

Pippin had only seen the elves twice so far and each time he had an extended interaction with them, it never ceased to amaze him. She looked him in the eye, encouraging him with a warm smile. Barawen took his hands into hers.

"I wanted to give you this when I saw you last night. I never wish to see you in that pain again. Therefore, take this loan of power. It is only a handful but you will use it when the time is right. It will make your hand mighty and afford you a small freedom from affliction," she said as her hands resonated orchid.

Then his hands were warm and they hummed a faint blue. Barawen smiled and kissed his forehead.

"Namárie, Peregrine Took. May the grace of the Valar be with you, curios one."

And she walked off, nodding once more to Gandalf. She felt that she had done the right thing. Her remaining strength would put enough ease to her fighting whilst protecting her tiny fellow.

Aye…she hoped that it would.

**Authoress Note:**** Aww, hot damn. My wrist is bugging again. Well…whatever. I seem to have given my writer's block a swift kick in the ass, so I will be posting two chapters tonight. This special posting goes out to you, PixieAlice-xx!!**


	9. 9 Cage

**Chapter Nine- Cage**

Barawen walked back to the Hall, preparing herself for a quick meal. All the sudden, she was confronted by Legolas and Gimli.

"I saw that you had a word with the wizard, lass," Gimli said, stroking his beard. "What did he say to you?"

She shook her head, sitting on a bench and twiddling her thumbs.

"You are mistaken, Master Dwarf. I did not speak to the wizard. My only words were with the hobbit," she smiled. "I gave him a gift of my people and sent him on his way," she nodded.

Legolas, being the curious young ellon he was, asked her,

"What would that be?"

She looked longingly at the roof, as she thought of her father.

"I come from Valinor, Thranduillion," she smiled. "My father spent a great deal of time in the company of Tulkas Astaldo, the Vala who fought most heartily against Melkor. He put a great deal of strength in my Ada's hands and sent him forth to protect my mother, a friend of Estë. In other words, the skills that were learned of the Valar became mine through their students. I gave a fair portion to see him on his way in Gondor."

Gimli nearly fell on his bottom, as he had seen her in action at Helm's Deep and could not imagine Pippin dealing out any such damage. Just then, Aragorn walked up to his friends.

"What is the commotion?" he asked with suspicion. "Not more secrets I hope."

Gimli, pointing at her, nearly shouted at Aragorn,

"Lady Barawen has passed on her strength to the hobbit!" he gasped.

She quickly snapped, trying to put an end to the whole conversation.

"Calm down! I gave him less than a quarter! I merely sped up his healing factor and added more weight to his hand. It is not such a matter to shout all over Edoras!"

Aragorn took a seat opposite her, as did Legolas, while Gimli hopped up beside the elleth. She had never been so close to a dwarf and she was not so sure that she wished for such an interaction. Her people had not had dealings with them since the "dark days", as her late friend had so eloquently put it to her. She giggled to herself.

"I am curious," Aragorn asked. "What was the light of the two trees like?"

She sighed, glancing to the floor.

"It was a sea of white and silver in the opening hour, as Telperion gave his gift. And then, Laurelin's light was as golden sparks, and she was warm as flame. And I cannot describe the mixing of the lights. Their shining rivaled even Elbereth, who stole their light in buckets at times. It was greater than the light of either the sun or the moon."

She tapped her fingers on the table, casting a glance at Aragorn that stopped his line of questioning cold. Her stare was one of a sorrowful nostalgia. Legolas filled the void with his input.

"Her parents were great friends of the Valar, one of the first elves to exist. She is quite fortunate."

Being called fortunate both feed into her pride and made her want to question his sanity. Whatever. So long as he did not bring up any kin-slaying. Her parents may have had a hand in the killing of the Teleri and Sindar, but she only ever killed orc held Balrog at bay as she ushered her people away.

Barawen laughed at his words.

"If that is what you will have yourself believe. So be it," she sighed. "I was actually to return to the Undying Lands. But alas, I was called away, to Helm's Deep. I was told by Lady Galadriel that I would not see Lothlórien again. I did not understand her until now. I thought she foretold my death. Alas, she foretold my stubbornness and that my will to fight should trump the love of my home. And also, I do have no desire to return, for that forest is empty in my eyes. I will sail away when the time is right. But this is not my time. I have much work to do."

_Galadriel nodded at Barawen, March Warden of West Lórien and she did look down into the mirror. She saw herself, crying and sitting in a field of bodies, surrounded by death._

_Barawen looked at the Lady of Light._

"_I do not understand," she said in dismay. "What is this?"_

_Galadriel came to her side and grasped the elleth's hand._

"_Alas, Barawen, this is what is in my mind. I see great sorrow for you here in my mirror, should you choose to leave Lórien. I tell you now, that if you leave these woods with the ellyn under your command, you shall never set your feet here in the golden wood again!"_

_Barawen sighed, shedding a tear._

"_You have made up your mind, already?"_

_It was more of a statement than a question, from the Lady of Light._

"_Yes, my Lady. As one of the Noldor, you can see it as clearly as the day light. My will lies in revenge. For alas, my eyes have been closed. My vision is shut from anything in this forest of light. My only goal lies in the dark. I have loved and admired thee all my days, fair Lady. And I bid you a very fond farewell."_

Barawen was shaken from her memory by Aragorn's call that their meal had come. And she summoned as merry a mood as possible, as she ate the meal with great fervor.

/ / / / /

Barawen ate and then went to enjoy her time in study. Her wandering mind had been craving engagement for at least a week and she did find an interesting tale. It was about a fierce warrior who battled many evil men and rose, through his bravery, from a poor peasant to a great Lord. Midway, she heard a rapping on the door.

She looked up from her material, happy to see that it was only Éowyn. She had quite enough of remembering long horrible years and welcomed the simpler chatter.

"Hello, Lady Éowyn," she smiled. "Your people have quite an interesting lore. This book is very enthralling, indeed."

Éowyn smiled and came closer, sitting next to her new acquaintance, examining the book.

"It is just a children's story. You must have much more interesting history. History that is not…fictitious," she giggled.

Barawen sighed and then smirked, trying to reign in her snappish nature.

"You, young one, do not give yourself enough credit. There is no crime in being proud of your people…I should know. Besides, history is very tiring after a while. What harm is there to a simple 'happily-ever-after'?"

Both burst out in laughter. Then Éowyn grasped a few strands of her russet hair.

"I do not know much about the elves. Tell me, do your people not believe in cutting their hair?" she asked.

Barawen looked deeply at her, trying to find the words to explain.

"Let's say that I chose to keep my hair long. It has suffered cutting in battle, but otherwise…I want to keep it long until I reach the shores of Valinor again. My hair is the reminder of my parent's love for me. My father name was the expression of his delight at my hair color. He was so proud of me," she smiled. "Does that suffice as an answer?"

Éowyn nodded.

"Then I might say, their love had to great, for you to let your locks reach this length!"

And Barawen did note that it was ridiculously long.

"Well, perhaps you might help me 'trim' it. I will just pretend that you won the honor by sparring me."

And Barawen surprised Gimli, Legolas _and _Aragorn as she joined them that evening with her hair reaching her waist, rather than her calves.

**Authoress Note:**** LMAO. I cannot believe that I freaking cut her hair! Oh well? All good things must come to an end right? Whatever…Well, this is my note for you as I realize that I never fully translated her parents' names. Or her spouses' name…or hers. So here we go!**

***The elves names are listed mother name, then father name, then spouse name/epessë***

**Barawen Russaloxë Gilrin/ Sárawen Russaloxë–Fiery Maiden/ Red-brown hair/ Maiden crowned in stars**

**Meryë Hendusailë Náretári/ Mereneth Hensaeleth Norin – Festive/ Wise eyes/ Fire Queen**

**Aváru Tasarion Alindo/ Avor Tatharion Galor–Stubborn or Unwilling/ Son of Willow/ Thriver**

**Gladhor Hinalagon Mirinon/ Lalardo Hendalacon Imirindo –Personification of Laughter/ Stormy eyes/ Heart of Crystal**

**-**_**Ja ne**_


	10. 10 Dance In The Dark

**Authoress Note:**** This a little bit of a crack chapter since it started out with one theme in mind and I thought it made the whole story a little…Barawen-centric. So I'm gonna have to backtrack the story next chapter! Sorry! It'll be worth the wait! I'll make it make sense!**

**Chapter Ten- Dance In The Dark**

Barawen grew restless in the Hall of Théoden King.

Action! She needed it! Craved it! Yes, the elleth did desire mischief. And she had to think of how to best attain what would be the bane of her boredom. First, she had to find herself a victim. She starred at the doors to the dining hall.

'The next friendly face I see, be it Aragorn or Théoden, they shall be my victim,' she thought to herself, donning a poisonous smile.

Her father had been correct. Her mischievous nature rivaled even her mother's (who had spent countless hours catching her father off-guard with boundless schemes and terrible pranks). Barawen smiled to herself.

At long last, Eru did answer her prayers for salvation, as Legolas carried himself through the door…thus making her smile all the harder, for she knew well that the prince would be a willing participant.

Indeed.

She walked up to him, grasping her hips, standing firmly in his way. He starred at her.

"Yes, Lady Barawen?" he asked, trying to get around her.

But she blocked him.

"Ha! You, Thranduillion, have some nerve to think that I will have given up my hopes to best you. I say, there must be some skill that I surpass you in and by Elbereth, I will find it!" she said, shoving him slightly in the chest.

Surprised and slightly feeding into her maddened request, he responded.

"And if I refuse to meet your challenge?"

Barawen scoffed.

"You will not refuse me, though! If you do…I will…Do something to you that you shall not deem pleasant!" she shouted.

Legolas tried to suppress his violent urge to laugh in her face. Instead he cocked an eyebrow.

'Best me?' he thought. 'I will make her eat her prideful words. Prepare yourself, Noldo!' he cried to himself.

"Fine. Name your game," he agreed.

Practically beaming, she waved him over to the armory.

"Come, Thranduillion! You shall try your arm against mine!" she chirped, nearly floating with glee. "Don't be frightened green elf! The hour is far too late to be disheartened!"

He followed her to the armory, where she had stored her elven sword. It was very worn from her previous encounter and so she had it sharpened. And she tossed him his own blade to use.

"This is your test?" Legolas taunted. "I may not use it much but I can handle one."

"_I may not use it much but I can handle one_," she mimicked in an overly exaggerated female voice. "Are you an ellon or an elleth? Summon the courage to duel me, Thranduillion!" she said, unsheathing her weapon.

He took his sword from its scabbard.

"Would you have me defeat you here?" he asked, looking around at the precarious weapons.

She smiled in sheer bliss at the challenge.

"Oh, save your words. Of course I wouldn't have you get outsmarted here, where all these pointy weapons can hurt you, woodland prince," she taunted, running off to the courtyard, where she might find better space to do battle.

Legolas was all too happy to oblige her and rather excited at the prospect of trying his arm. The wait for Sauron's prophesized siege was long and tiring and testing of his patience, which he found himself lacking as of late.

/ / / / /

Gandalf and Pippin were outside together, in the cool air of night, Gandalf, smoking his pipe and Pippin surveying his newly issued attire. Both were in deep thought of the events that were assuredly well on the way. Pippin's thought may have outweighed even Mithrandir.

"So, I imagine this is just a ceremonial position," Pippin said, unsheathing his sword. He looked at Gandalf as he placed it back in the scabbard. "I mean, they don't actually expect me to do any fighting. Do they?"

Gandalf, wishing his line of thinking had been on that plane as he offered his services to Denethor, gave a rather miffed reply.

"You're in the service of the steward now," he said. "You're going to have to do as you're told, Peregrine Took, guard of the Citadel."

Pippin paused, in thought, before walking closer to his friend, resting his head on the balcony overlooking the city, gazing at the searing overcast of Mordor. "It's so quiet."

"It's the deep breath before the plunge."

"I don't want to be in battle…but waiting on the edge of one I can't escape is even worse. Is there any hope, Gandalf, for Frodo and Sam?"

Gandalf came to rest on the balcony as well.

"There never was much hope. Just a fool's hope," he smiled. Then his mood hardened. "Our enemy is ready. His full strength's gathered. Not only Orcs, but Men as well. Legions of Haradrim from the South, mercenaries from the coast…All will answer Mordor's call. This will be the end of Gondor as we know it. Here the hammer stroke will fall hardest. If the river is taken, if the garrison at Osgiliath falls…the last defense of the city will be gone."

Pippin smiled, trying to keep his hope alive.

"But we have the White Wizard. That's got to count for something."

Gandalf became distant, striking much fear into the heart of the Halfling.

"Gandalf?"

"Sauron has yet to reveal his deadliest servant…the one who lead Mordor's armies in war. The one they say no living man can kill…The Witch-king of Angmar. You've met him before. He stabbed Frodo on Weathertop. "

Pippin's face mirrored his gut-wrenching fear, as deep inside he hoped that the strength from Barawen would be adequate, as he remembered the frightful encounter.

"He is the lord of the Nazgûl, the greatest of the nine. Minas Morgul is his lair."

Just as he spoke of that which was named Lord of the Nazgûl, a gleaming spike of green power rose to the heavens, piercing the clouds and brightening the night sky in a glow that cast hope into a pit of despair, Gandalf held Pippin closer.

"We come to it at last. The great battle of our time. The board is set. The pieces are moving."

/ / / / /

Barawen sat down for breakfast that morning, brooding in a cloud of utter disgust. Gimli watched as she and the woodland prince exchanged looks of utter disgust and childishness.

Aye, for Legolas had won, by forcing her into submission, not once but thrice. Yes, her pride as a sword-wielding Noldo was quite wounded. And his cocky attitude did nothing in the way of assuaging such a wound. He was being as far from humble as he could, she thought, on purpose!

She ate with a pursed lip, over-chewing her food through clenched jaws, as though she were envisioning chewing her way through Legolas. Gimli spoke the first.

"If I may ask, milady, what has the bacon ever done to you?" he asked.

Barawen shot him a look, hard and glaring, as her lips quivered, trying to keep herself from bursting out I laughter. She smiled to him, and then stuck her tongue out to Legolas.

"Thranduillion thinks himself a better swordsman indeed, after our fight yesterday. He fails to reveal that two of the times I was defeated, I was tripped. He is a trickster and I don't like it!" she slammed her hand next to Legolas' plate, making him lean back a bit.

"Whoa! I did not receive a notice that I had to play fair! Perhaps that makes you nobler than I but, certainly, it does not make you the smarter of us," he smirked, watching her face twist as his pride grew. "And why do you continue to address me as Thranduillion?" he asked.

She was taken be a slight surprise at the inquiry.

"Do you think that I should not? I must say, an excess of three hundred years in the services of the Galadhrim may have a great deal to do with it. Not to mention, I did not wish to assume us that close. And thirdly…" she smirked, resting her chin on her hand. "Sometimes I just do that to spite you."

He looked on her in a playful manner.

"Is that so? Well then, by which epessë would you like to be called? I rather enjoy _Cam en Amarth_," he smirked as well.

"Do not address me as such. Only one person has ever called me by that and gotten away with the offense," she warned. "Haldir of Lórien. And he will be the last. I didn't even like the name to begin with, but I received it as my father's daughter…and because he chose to sail away and left me a temporary guard."

She smile and looked to Gimli, then to Legolas.

"Though, I see your point. I will not call you that again…for now," she smiled. "Do not sleep too soundly, for the Dwarf and I shall have our vengeance on you when you are the least suspecting!"

As she proclaimed this, the dishes were cleared by those of the court. Barawen grabbed Gimli by the hand.

"Do you wish to spar? I am…quite bored. And I must sharpen my skills-"

"Or lack thereof…" Legolas said loudly enough to be heard.

"Be silent!" she cried, pointing his way. "We must sharpen our skills to prepare for the upcoming demise of Legolas Thranduillion."

Gimli laughed heartily.

"I like it! What are ye waiting for? Let us go!"

She smiled and began to run with him outside but Aragorn was just running in.

"The beacons of Minas Tirith! The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!"

He was breathless.

Barawen was disappointed. Sorely.

All awaited Théoden's response.

**Authoress Chat:**** Barawen is going to play an important role in the Battle of Pelenor Fields. However, she is going to become less vocal. And, a little bit of a spoiler alert…prepare for the worst. Oh! I've said too much!!**


	11. 11 Pain

**Authoress Note:**** Okay, I'm sorry in advance about the length of this chapter. A thousand pardons but there's really only one thing to be accomplished in this arc. The next chapter will be WAAAAAYYY longer. So please, have mercy on me. Don't burn me or stab me with…sharp things.**

**Chapter Eleven- Pain**

Barawen caught her breath, as the court awaited Théoden's response to Gondor's call. The eyes of every one were on him.

"And Rohan will answer. Muster the Rohirrim!" he called.

Then the scramble began to prepare for war. The Green Elf would just have to wait, she thought, rushing to don her armor and her cloak of duty. The bell of war rung in the ears of every man, woman and child, bringing an old sensation of fear and uncertainty to all…but none more than those whose in whose hands sat weapons of wartime.

Barawen had to receive help from Men in the fastening of her metal attire but was more eager than most. The war was the only thing giving her fëa the Will to Endure. And for this purpose, she must.

Barawen found her horse, Galadloth, in the stables, whinnying for her master. Petting her gently, she calmed her steed and took her place atop the old friend making her way out towards her friends, headed towards Dunharrow. She took heed of the words of courage spoken to the Men whom she had chosen to fall with, and admired Éomer's strength.

"Now is the hour. Riders of Rohan, oaths you have taken. Now, fulfill them all. To lord and land!"

And she rode swiftly behind then Men of the court, wishing for success but thinking grimly of death. For it was almost hopeless, their quest. But the thought was quickly put aside, amid the great company of the hopeful. And Barawen was suddenly very happy and was no longer taken by despair.

'I will do what I can. To this, I promise,' she said to herself in her mind.

/ / / / /

Osgiliath had fallen.

The Men of Gondor fell back to their city, under the protection of Mithrandir and the light, which the Nazgûl and their fell beasts feared. It was there, in the safety of Gondor, that Gandalf and Pippin received the first news of good hope, born from the lips of Denethor's son, Faramir.

Frodo and Sam had been seen alive, not even three days prior. But it was a hopeful word surrounded in darkness.

"Gandalf, they're taking the road to the Morgul Vale."

He looked with worry evident in his wise stare.

"And then the pass of Cirith Ungol."

"What does that mean?" Pippin asked. "What's wrong?"

He found himself ignored, as Gandalf implored the young son of the Steward to surrender all knowledge of the Halflings and of the One Ring.

/ / / / /

The Ride to the encampment was not slow but it also was not as quick has Barawen would have liked. She also had regret for her aversion to rest within the Halls of Edoras. She had not slept in art because of her own desire for confrontation. But it now a need, so she was in greater spirits upon seeing the encampment. She paid no heed to anything else except finding her way to the tents and catching up on her rest.

She found a place to leave her steed and then began to follow the men in their preparations. The elleth was drawn to her friends, the Elf and the Dwarf, as they had their own talk with Éomer. She walked up to Gimli, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"I hope you did not abandon our quest so lightly. What's going on?" she asked, starring at the spooked horses.

"The horses are restless…and the men are quiet," Legolas said.

"They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain," said Éomer, guiding their eyes to the pass in the walls of the peak.

Gimli, rested upon his axe, asked of the canyon.

"That road there…where does that lead?"

"It is the Dimholt, the door under the mountain."

Éomer returned a solemn glance.

"None who venture there ever return. That mountain is evil."

Aragorn's eyes were focused on it, nearly drawn in by the pull of the evil but Aragorn was pulled away by the dwarf and his elvish companions.

"Aragorn! Let's find some food."

While they ate on the mountain, Barawen was deathly quiet, muttering only a few words amongst the friendly chatter, consuming her rations and fleeing (as only that word might describe the haste of her departure) the scene for her tent.

She left in such a rush, that she did not catch the sight of a sword-wielding Merry, rushing out of a tent, towards the smithy. She caught a bit of a blunt blade, making her jump in surprise, as it scrapped her breast plate.

"Whoa! Has anyone told you the dangers of those things! Be careful, Master Merry!" she laughed.

He laughed with her, amazed that he had managed to do this twice. He held his hand to her.

"I'm sorry, my Lady. Do you forgive me?"

She knelt down to him, grabbing his hand, gazing into his eyes with intent, before returning his question with a response.

"Nothing to forgive, my dear Halfling," she smiled. "You have a good feel about you," she said, touching his palm softly, and then grabbing his sword. "You fight to protect something dear to you. I can tell," she sighed.

He nodded, watching her become caught up in thought.

"Lady Barawen?"

Barawen was brawn back, letting her hands fall. She then asked him a very serious question.

"If I were to give you a token of faith, would you know how to use it? Would you possess the courage?"

Sheathing his sword, Merry affirmed her inquiries with a slight nod. Smiling, she rested her hands on his and he felt them grow lukewarm, as they were imbued in a green light. Barawen smiled and kissed him on the forehead.

"Goodnight, Merry," she whispered, walking away to her tent.

And there she found sleep for a while; A sleep so deep that it required the closing of her eyes. And Barawen did not awaken until the morning when the first rays of Arien graced her skin, warming her will.

But she found herself wounded. In the fray, she found that her three comrades were not to be found. And she swore under her breath, crying tears of rage.

'Damn them! For they have gone to war without me! I knew it was a mistake for me to allow them in so close to me!' she thought, anger clouding her as she jumped onto Galadloth, riding her with great fervor. To death! To doom! To war!

**Authoress Note:**** See? I told you…I hate myself for this. It was rushed. But if you've seen the movie, you know how rushed the encampment scene is. It was unavoidable. I did MUCH better in the actual battle. So don't slay me just yet…**


	12. 12 Don't Trust Me

**Authoress Chat:**** One thing that you will notice in this chapter is that the wording is very different than in the previous chapters. When I watched this battle, I was inspired. It was an epic confrontation; more so than the Battle of Helm's Deep. I told this battle as if it were a part of the legend of Barawen's conquest. To me, it was the pinnacle of her fights, in all the long Ages of her life. So please read it as such. And I really hope that I did Tolkien justice. **

**Chapter Twelve- Don't Trust Me**

"Open the Gates! Quick!" a guard yelled.

There, a horse drug the body of Faramir, son of the Steward, into the city of Minas Tirith. The mortal hung by the stirrup of his steed, pulled along like a corpse into the White City. But alas, he was not.

Though his body lay riddled with arrows, the life had not yet gone from him. And Pippin saw this as he and Denethor rushed to the males injured side.

"He needs medicine, my Lord!"

But Denethor could not be convinced of this. He had lost his hope for greatness, he thought. And he cried out that his line was at its end! Walking to the wall of his city, he thought to look for clearer skies and instead the Steward was greeted by a great Host of Orcs and Uruk. And his sadness quickly turned to outrage, as he spat words filled with hate and anger and madness.

"Rohan…has deserted us. Théoden had betrayed me."

And his city lay under siege, as his anger took hold of his judgment and cast it into the void, along with his sanity.

"Abandon your posts! Flee! Flee for your lives!"

Satisfied in his words, he turned to leave but was met with the fury of Gandalf and the White Staff of Doom. The Caretaker succumbed to pain and Gandalf took up the command with the strength of a Lord.

"Prepare for battle!"

He took up his place upon the horse, Shadowfax, and raced throughout the city, calling the men back to their posts, encouraging the defense of the city. Taking up the highest point in the wall, Gandalf called for the gearing of the catapults, inspiring the will to resist.

"Send these foul beasts into the abyss!"

/ / / / /

The battle dragged on, the night falling on them. And the night was cast into fear as the people of Gondor found themselves forced further up the tiers of the city. Already on the second level, the men grew very weary. Fire consumed the lower levels. Doubt plagued their minds and apprehension engulfed their hands.

But Mithrandir encouraged them onwards. Meanwhile, Pippin scurried through the city to find his master. When he did find him, he sorely wished that he had not, as the found the Steward's mind had completely gone.

"No tomb for Denethor and Faramir. No long, slow sleep of death embalmed. We shall burn, like the heathen kings of old."

And wood and oil was bought forth in preparation of this last deed. Pippin had not forgotten the Gift of the Elves that lay dormant in his hand. And so he implored his master to allow his help, but his plight fell on deaf ears.

"The house of his spirit crumbles. He is burning. Already burning."

But his littlest servant did not stand back and watch such evil occur.

"He's not dead! He's not dead!"

And with his hands, Pippin began to bring down the bundles of firewood that threatened the life of his friend. But Denethor grasped him by his collar and drew him away before Pippin could lay his hands upon his son.

"Farewell, Peregrine, son of Paladin. I release you from my services. Go now and die in what way seems best for you."

The Hobbit lay outside of the Halls, listening to the commandment for the joint suicide to commence. Beaten but not defeated, Pippin ran to find the White Rider, the only one who could set things right now.

"Gandalf!" he cried. "Where's Gandalf?"

The city was licked in flame and death surrounded them. But, by Elbereth, this was one death that Pippin could prevent! And so he would prevent it! And as the sun crept across the sky in the east, all took up the sound of the Horn of Rohan. And Orc and Men were taken in awe as they saw the battalion before them.

/ / / / /

They had ridden with the haste of the wind, passing through to the realm of Gondor as the light of dawn graced the skies over the White City. The sound of the horses and the smell of death graced Barawen's senses, as her bloodlust was now at its peak. And she thought of the Hobbits and prayed to the Starkindler that they could be victorious and live through the coming hardship.

Barawen felt the molten hot will of Noldor burn in her veins as the King gave up his orders to his people. She was not disheartened by the host before her. Nay, the Eldar wished for death and the glory and heat of battle and knew that her soul would find unrest until she saw the fell beasts dead at her feet. She withdrew her blade, Nargalad (the fire light) from its scabbard and held it firm, feeling the urge to slay bursting forth, her father's hand guiding her arm.

"Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden! Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered…a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!"

The spears of Men were drawn as she steadied her steed, both of them filled with courage and strength of heart. The King came forth, touching each spear with his blade, encouraging his legion.

"Ride now! Ride now! Ride! Ride for ruin and the world's ending! Death!"

The Men cried his slogan as well.

"Death!"

They cried his words back to him.

"Death!"

Barawen felt herself filled with the longing for death's hand as the word flew from her rosed lips, tears spilling from her emerald eyes.

""DEATH!!"

"Forth, Eorlingas!" Théoden cried as the horns of his people sounded, commanding a charge.

Orcs came forth, armed with their bows drawn, prepared to end the reign of Men in Arda. Arrows fell upon them, killing many. But their siege was not halted. The wings of glory had enrapt them, feeding their spirits, supplying their bodies fortitude and they crashed upon the wicked host, plunging their swords into their flesh. Blood was drawn.

And shields were splintered. Spears were shaken. But the hand was strong and fierce and held no mercy for the foul monsters that hounded their lands. And Barawen felt the air of Eru encircle her, lifting up her royal blue cloak, casting up her fiery wreath of hair, making it appear as flame. And the cry of the kin that came before came from her as she sliced through orcish bodies like water crashes on the rocks. Barawen felt her ancestors give her their inner fires and felt her parents smile on her.

/ / / / /

Meanwhile, Pippin hurried to Gandalf's side, crying his name. His drew the wizard's attention immediately to the Halfling.

"Gandalf! Denethor has lost his mind! He's burning Faramir alive!"

Gandalf took up the Hobbit, resting him in his saddle as he races with all-haste to the Hall of the King, seeking to spare the life of his innocent son. The wizard broke through the doors, just as Denethor was prepared to set the pair aflame. But the elder spoke out.

"Stay this madness!"

Denethor responded by grasping the flame and casting it amongst the pyre where he stood, his son laying at his feet. Gandalf took up a spear from his guard and cast the Steward aside, as the Hobbit threw himself onto the burning pile, struggling to roll Faramir off of the flames. He did succeed, smothering the flames, as he felt enormous power, burning like fire, burst from his hands and a cerulean light overtook the body of Faramir and Pippin felt his body take on the illness and injury that the orc arrows had provoked.

As the light receded, Denethor gazed on his son from the floor. He smiled, whispering his name as he saw the young male stirring back to consciousness. But the deed he had begun could not be undone. The fire of his madness swallowed up the Steward and he flung himself from the peaks of the White City, ending his life…just as Pippin returned the health of his son. And then, all passes into darkness for them.

/ / / / /

Barawen felt her spirit emblazoned as her steady hand forced them back. The fight went well thus far, by the grace of Eru, sparing many an expedient death. But the joy was not to last in their hearts, even as the orc were driven to the river. The Horns of Evil Men sounded from afar and for the first, the dreaded sight of the Mumakil was seen.

They rode up on Oliphaunts with barbed wire gracing their tusks, mowing down all in their path. But Barawen did not see it. She rode, slicing those in her path and found herself blindsided, caught beneath the wire. Her horse was drug for a time, whinnying in pain, kicking and was lost to her as her leg became entangled in the barbed wire. Barawen staved the urge to scream, knowing that were they to take notice, she would be riddled with arrows. And so she dug her leg free, ripping her hands raw and was cast into the dirt, her sword lost to the field and her left leg badly mangled.

Barawen struggled to find her sword, crawling in the dirt, coughing up blood, as she had suffered two broken ribs. She was faced with a bloodthirsty orc. Struggling to her feet, she curled her raw and bloodied palms into fists, praying that this strength would do. She was overpowered in thus, that his sword burrowed deep into her side and drew great blood. She grasped the hilt in her hands, refusing to let go as he attempted to establish his final blow. Barawen's mouth ran over with crimson, as the struggle proved to hurt her even more than the initial wound.

Tiring of the confrontation, the orc let go, reaching out to choke the life from her. She did the same. But their strength was not equal and as her hands tightened around his neck, his windpipe was crushed. His foul corpse fell upon her body, earning him a scream as Barawen's sight tunneled into the abyss.

**Authoress Note:**** Oh the no's! I can't believe I just did that! Muhaha! Yes I can! **

**Sorry…it had to be done. I feel so great. Yet so sad. For I can see the end in sight. I won't tell you what I mean by that, but I will tell you that it has been my greatest pleasure to write this trilogy. OH! I gave away a hint! Opps! **

**Thanks for reading, my little Monsters. I love you all! I made Holiday Cookies! Only true reviewing believers may have them though! So review! You know you wanna… ;) **


	13. 13 Russian Roulette

**Authoress Chat:**** PART TWO OF THE BATTLE OF PELENOR FIELDS! Good little Monsters…**

**Chapter Thirteen- Russian Roulette**

As the Noldorin elleth lay dying, the battle around her drew steadily onwards, her friends helping to accomplish that which she had set out to do. The King of Rohan called to his men, issuing his words of strength and enduring, feeding his Men courage. All the while, he was unknowing of the wounding of his Eldarin ally…nor his niece's exploits.

Éowyn rode swiftly, remembering the words of the Elf. 'You have the Heart of a King,' she had said. And Éowyn believed it, taking up all strength in her body to cut down these evil creatures. With Merry in her saddle, she gave him word to take the reins, riding beneath the gargantuan foe and cutting him down, leg by leg until he kneeled to her will.

"Bring it down! Bring it down!" Théoden yelled, as his archer's shot volleys of shafts through the skulls of the Oliphaunts, throwing their riders and other hosts to the blood-stained ground.

As one of the beasts fell, it landed dangerously close to the Halfling and his companion, throwing them and their horse into the field as well. Éowyn, full adrenaline, rolled out of the way in time but did not see the Hobbit she had left with. And so she cried out to him, praying for response.

"Merry!"

But none came.

/ / / / /

Forced to the last tier of the city, Gandalf sat with Pippin, who had recovered from his temporary state of harrowing pain. He was lost in thought, for he was thankful that his loan of power had saved someone else but he was crying deep inside, with each pound of the troll's hammer, knowing that death was literally at their door.

"I never thought it would end this way."

Gandalf looked to him, a smile latent in his wise features.

"End? No, the journey does doesn't end here."

Pippin looked to him, a tear in his grey depths, unknowing of the wizard's meaning.

"Death is just another path. One that we all must take," he clarified, as the young man was enrapt in the truth of his words, hanging onto them like a bedtime story. "The grey rain curtain of this world rolls back…and then you see it."

Gandalf paused, joy and nostalgia in his blue orbs. Pippin, spellbound, begged to hear the end of his tale…to know that all would be fine. For hope.

"What, Gandalf? See what?"

"White shores…and beyond. A far green country under a swift sunrise," he smiled, sighing as he looked over to the Rising Sun.

"Well," Pippin smiled, "that isn't so bad."

And the wizard smiled and shook his head.

"No. No it isn't."

And they were drawn back to the sounds of doom, rapping upon their threshold, and knew that this was the pinnacle of their lives. And they would fight for all the hope of others, there and beyond. This was their time.

/ / / / /

The struggle with the Mumakil raged, with the Rohirrim on the upper hand. The King of the Rohirrim called to the Riders, bidding them to fall back to him, to regroup and destroy these scourges down to the last of them! But he saw in his sight his doom.

A winged beast of the Nazgûl rode the wind swiftly, time ceasing to flow along at the natural rate. And its jaws shut on his frame, destroying his body and filling the monsters belly with blood before being cast to the ground, beneath the weight of his horse, who had received the same treatment. The Nazgûl broke his spirit house…with his niece watching.

"Feast on his flesh," the Wraith whispered, reining his ghoul in on the disabled man.

But Éowyn stood between them, rage running rampant in her veins, the will to protect her uncle, staying her fear.

"I will kill you if you touch him!"

And with the stench of death rolling from his poisonous words, the Witch-king hissed to the soldier before him.

"Do not come between the Nazgûl and his prey."

His salivating servant lunged at the soldier of the Rohirrim, but she moved, slicing the head from its elongated neck in two heated slashes that bloodied her hands and a few places where the helmet did not cover her face.

The bloody body quivered before falling to the field in a crash, disturbing the seat of his master.

Éowyn donned a shield of her people, as the shadow, wielding a sword and morning-star. The weapon was larger than any that the princess had seen, filling her with fear of death. But her iron will would not fall apart. She took up her stance, as the cloaked Haunt screeched and swung his tool at her. The brave warrior ducked as he swung again, for the second time. The third hit landed, decimating her shield and fracturing her arm as she fell backwards onto the corpse of her uncle's steed…and the King watched, full of pain but also joy, that one of his Men would defend him so valiantly from the One who could not be Slain.

Alas, death was taking him…

/ / / / /

On the banks of Pelenor, the ships of pirates drew into the Harbor. They were captained by none that could be seen. And the armies of Mordor awaited their aids. Their leader pushed the lower's out of the way, taking the forefront.

"Late, as usual, pirate scum! There's knife-work here needs doing. Come on, you sea rats! Get off your ships!"

But there was no pirate scum to be found. No, indeed… He was gifted instead with the polar opposite of aid; a Man, an Elf and a Dwarf…and three ships full of undead spirits.

The hope fled their faces, as the orcs prepared to fight. But there was no contest for the Undead, whose bodies could not be penetrated by the weapons of the Realm of the Living. And so death came to them swiftly as the trio led the siege, more confident in their victory.

"There's plenty for the both of us. May the best Dwarf win!"

/ / / / /

Merry scrambled in the dust to find his companion. He had lost his chance to protect her, he thought, feeling for his sword. Which he found. But the Hobbit had half-dead Evil Men grasping at him. He felt fury, his will at its peak, the desire to rejoin and protect Lady Éowyn leading him as slashed at their arms and exposed body parts. The Halfling did not realize his hands glowed green, as he sliced his way through to her. An Orc came to him from afar. The Halfling swung his blade, taking notice for the first time how strong his hand had been made, as the Orc's body was quite literally split in two halves.

He saw the Witch-king stalk up to Éowyn, grasping her by the throat and holding her up from the ground. The acrid smell of death fell from him.

"You fool. No man can kill me. Die now!"

But the Hobbit came from behind and ran his blade through the calf of the king. But he was not rewarded much. No…his strength was returned to him doubled upon itself, crippling his hand and bringing Merry to his knees, along with the Witch-king, who screeched hideously.

Éowyn, taking heed to his words and her opportunity, cast aside her helmet, freeing her golden hair and revealing her true sex.

"I am no man!"

The Daughter of Kings drove her sword into his face, striking him down with a ghastly shriek. Her hand, marred from her energy he possessed, could not hold her blade, but her work was accomplished. She watched as the evil form crumpled, falling to a heap of cloth, vanishing forever from the lands of Middle-earth.

/ / / / /

Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas were making short work of their opponents as the Men of the Dimholt slew all foes in their path. Only a few of the Mumakil existed still, one headed straight to the threat! And Legolas heard the call of Elessar from a distance, "Legolas!"

The Elf-prince saw the creature headed his way. Young and full of heart, the male leapt the way of the Oliphant, grasping a hold of its tusk and began his ascent, crossing from front to hind leg, where he might reach higher. Finally, coming upon the back of the beast, he readied his bow, plucking man after man from the palanquin.

"Thirty-three, thirty-four…" he continued his count, as the men lunged at him.

The prince ducked one after the other, finally growing sick of it and to throw them to their deaths. He grasped a rope to the shelter atop the beast and hung to it, hacking the rope from the monster. As they came undone, Legolas rode the leaning stand until he reached the height of the animal's back, letting go and killing the riders.

Taking hold of three arrows, Legolas shot the Oliphant in the soft tissues of its skull, ending its life and sliding to the ground from its trunk, landing with an Elvish grace despite his exploit.

Gimli wore a look on his face that was somewhere between reverence and utter hatred, spitting a remark meant to dash all cockiness in the all-too-cocky Elf-prince.

"That still only counts as one!"

The undead spirits dealt swiftly with the remaining threat as the battlefield was surveyed by Aragorn, who was the first to notice the trademark blue cloak of their elleth friend in the distance. But on the way to view it, the armies of the dead marched forth, demanding their release.

The wizard, Elf and Dwarf had found him as well, prompting the input of their ideas.

"Bad idea. Very helpful in a tight spot, these lads, despite the fact they're dead," Gimli said.

Their leader gave the Dwarf a treacherous look.

"You gave us your word!" he hissed.

But Aragorn had needed no convincing.

"I hold your oath fulfilled. Go. Be at peace."

And to the dismay a few, their ghostly forms flew the world as dust in the wind, leaving behind a sense of longing and, perhaps, doubt that he had done the right thing. Their heads bowed in respect for the dead when, out of the silence, a desperate cry of pain came to a then fully-aware She-elf.

The Company of Four came running and no one quite expected to see her in such a condition. Her mouth and chin were completely bloodied, her eyes the dimmest they had ever seen them, her skin pale and her body rattling. Underneath of Barawen, on her right, was a pool of crimson, soaked into the dry grass and they knew that she had been run through with a knife. She cried out again, trying to push the heavy Orc body off her own but found the task too difficult.

Aragorn lunged forward, pushing him off, clearing her face, as Legolas and Gimli knelt near her other side. Her gaze was erratic, as she whispered in Sindarin.

"What has happened? Why do I still draw breath?" she gasped.

Her fingers touched the open flesh of her wound, as her armor had been severely cracked from the blow. Barawen's gaze drifted to Legolas.

"I thought you had left. Forgive me…I did not see it. And my anger was the death of me. I tried to heal it but-it is too deep…"

Her eyes closed as her lungs filled slowly with blood, her nose bleeding.

Legolas felt tears sting his eyes. She had been a loyal companion and friend. This was a rare occasion for him, to see death so closely. It was a terrible sight…especially in one who had so eagerly yearned for life and was alike in the desire of excitement. She could not be at her end!

Legolas sought to speak but he could not find the words. There was only a tear. He realized that he had not expected to live or that he would come back for her. He grasped her hand, feeling the last bits of tender warmth in them. How he wished that he could undo this, he thought, gripping them hard.

His eyes flickered open as a silver light poured from her body and reached across to him. He felt his hands bind to hers, as he took on the pain of ten men. It felt as if it would be too much to bear. Was this her last will? To pass her power on to him? Or was this something different?

**Authoress Note: ****You may be surprised to know that this is the ONLY title that I purposefully picked. I think that it summed up everything nicely. As you know, the tale winds to its close. I'm working on the epilogue to the story to explain some things and it may wind up long enough to become a fiction of its own. I AM SO EXCITED!!! We are at our end, my little Monsters. Please review for the ending. It should be no more than 2.5 to 3.**


	14. 14 So Happy I Could Die

**Authoress Chat:**** It took me a little longer than I anticipated completing this chapter. I guess it's just the pressure of wanting this to end just right. Well, without further adu, here is some long awaited super-fluff...**

**Chapter Fourteen- So Happy I Could Die**

Aragorn and Gimli were completely blinded by the silvery mist of the power that was being transferred. It literally felt as if the oxygen was being sucked out of their lungs. And just when it felt as if the very life was being suffocated out of them, they were filled with an amazingly warm breath of wind.

It was as if life was being given to them. Legolas, specifically, felt that his whole body was floating. But then it was gone. Space and time were distorted. In fact, the Mirkwood Prince was not even in Gondor anymore. There were many voices humming and singing in the distance. The sky was sweeter, the land green and unmarred. Then he saw them…

The two decimated trees, Telperion and Laurelin. How in the world did he get here? Legolas looked about for the answers, not expecting for answers to come to him. Two elves, one male and one female, came to him, wearing silver and gold robes. The male was grey-eyed and had dark, almost black, brown hair. The female was bright green-eyed and had long wavy golden hair. And both of them smiled at him.

Legolas was taken in awe at their presence. The presence of Elves who had spent many centuries and millennia in the Blessed Realm was a humbling sight for one so young. The female looked on him, speaking in a voice like a babbling brook.

"I see that you will be the one to save out daughter. Do not be alarmed. This is only a temporary state."

Legolas was really confused.

"Our daughter is dying," the male said, reaching out to Legolas, as did his wife. "She has never been this close to death before and I fear that she has almost lost the Will to Endure."

The look across the Elf-prince's face became dire and serious.

"What must I do?" he asked.

Her mother and father looked at each other smiling, then at him. But it was the She-elf that gave Legolas his answer.

"I can see the desire to save her in you. When I gave her that gift, I did not tell her all of its secrets for this purpose. If you did not have a soul seeking to save her, this would not be possible and my daughter would most likely be dead. Bus she is not. This that you are experiencing is the Breath of Life. It is what made our kind and keeps us. You must join fëa. It is the only way."

He gulped.

"I do not know if that is wise. That would open us to each other. We would be caught in an unbreakable bond…essentially married. I do not wish to take that choice from her."

Her father laughed at his naivety.

"We will not lie to you about the implications of this binding. But it is not permanent. This is a joining to stabilize her and to share the fortitude of her healing magic. It will allow you to take the place of her healing, which is what you have already begun. You may become attached to one another but you will not be forced into an eternal union."

Legolas nodded, looking upon the fair, smiling Vanya who leaned into him. She kissed the Prince's forehead and waved him farewell.

"Go now. It is already done. We are forever in your debt for the mercy that you have shown our stubborn offspring."

/ / / / /

Legolas awoke on top of Barawen, who was breathing normally. Legolas wondered whether or not he had officially gone insane. What with the previous apparitions, it was an option to consider. He had really seen her parents Meryë and Aváru? Putting the thought out of his mind, Legolas jumped off of her.

"Oh, Eru!" he cried. "Barawen! Barawen!" he said, shaking her.

Barawen awoke in a start, punching him across the face. Legolas held his face in astonishment and slight anger. It was probably just a knee-jerk reaction though, so he let it go.

"Oh my…I'm sorry," she said as Aragorn and Gimli helped to prop her up and help her to a healer.

Gimli sighed deeply, patting her down.

"We thought you had died, milady! You rascal!"

She smirked, resting heavily on Aragorn's shoulder.

"I'm sorry for the worry, Master Dwarf. What can I say…I suppose I am not suited to take on an Oliphant?" she sighed, wincing in pain from her cracked ribs.

Barawen looked back at Legolas, who had collected himself and walked behind them now. The two exchanged a glance filled with deep understanding and respect. Whatever contempt may have existed at some point was non-existent. There was only compassion.

/ / / / /

"Ouch! Be careful! Have you never wrapped before?" Barawen moaned, as Aragorn wrapped her leg.

He smirked, trying to keep himself from grasping her leg any firmer than needed.

"Apologies, Lady Barawen. I tried to keep as much pressure from it as possible but…," he scoffed. "I mean, just look at you leg."

She did and groaned loudly.

It was a moderately mangled mess, raw and torn in many places. There was swelling present for the time being but she was not in danger of losing the appendage. She swallowed her aggravation and smiled.

"It is nasty isn't it? Just be careful," she said wincing.

Barawen had had a vision of her own whilst on the verge of death.

_Barawen closed her eyes and opened them again in a great Hall, filled with bright lights and people cloaked in White. She picked herself up from the stone floors and walked about. In the distance, there was an Elf cloaked in blue. Barawen felt herself drawn to him. Him?_

_Before she could question how she had known that, she was in his presence. He lowered his hood and revealed his identity. It brought tears to her eyes and made her heart joyful. Gladhor…_

_She ran to him, falling into his embrace. Ran? She glanced down at her leg and saw that she was robed in a lighter blue. Her gaze met his and he spoke to her in Quenya, making her ears perk._

"_These Halls are not for you. My Lady. My Captain. My Love. You have to leave," he implored._

"_Why? It is so peaceful here. Let me rest here with you. I have missed you, my friend. Where am I?" she whispered, resting against him._

_He held her close for a while before pushing her away._

"_You have to leave. These Halls are for the dead and you are __not__ dead. This vision was my final gift to you. It is the gift that will ease your mind…unlike the gem that you now bear, which weights you so closely to those whose time is upon them."_

_Barawen glared at him, her eyed running with tears of fury and confusion. _

"_I do __not__ understand! Why have you brought me here only to turn me away? This is the second ti-"_

_He places his hand on her lips._

"_As always, Sárawen…you talk too much," he smirked. "I did not mean to sadden you. You are far too burdened with that which was. I am here and I am at peace. Haldir is here. He brings me my daily allotment of grief…It reminds me of my days in the service of the Galadhrim. He is a loud spirit, stronger than me. __We__ are here and we are becoming whole again. We have found peace. But have left unrest for you."_

_She laughed at hearing that Haldir was still himself and hearing Gladhor's voice again._

"_Lalardo…I miss you. How I wish that we had more time to enjoy one another. I felt robbed of you. I have fought for you. Why is that not enough?"_

_She reached out to touch his face._

"_I always felt as if I didn't do enough for you. I felt as if I had thrown your life away…that if I had not hesitated, I would still have you."_

_His eyes became very dark with his mood._

"_I __never__ blamed you for my death. You saved me from a much harsher demise. It was the death of a hero. Besides, I had split up from the group. I was so eager to get you to acknowledge me. __I__ endangered __you__, not the other way around. I was a fool. And now, you must move forward. I am not telling you to forget me. But I __am__ telling you to move past me. Our time is over. When you awake in Middle-earth, you will know that I have spoken the truth. For some two hundred years, I have burdened your mind but now you will be free. Go. Enjoy life."_

_She gave him a quivering smile and nodded, finding herself becoming weightless and then she awoke. But her sorrow had been lifted._

/ / / / /

Barawen fell asleep that night, allowing her natural healing to take over. But she was still restless. Barawen awoke at an hour before dawn and scanned the room for evidence of her existence in the land of the living. Looking to the side of her, she saw Legolas sitting by the bed, clutching his bow so tightly that his knuckles were white. His eyes were hazy indicating his sleep.

The thought that he had been with her all night and watched her gave her a sense of peace and fortune that she had long since possessed. Her hand reached out to his and pried them from his bow, startling the Elf-prince awake. Legolas looked at her, both of them finding words unnecessary. He grasped her hand tighter as she made herself comfortable once again.

"Welcome back," he finally said. "You gave us all quite a scare, Noldo-neth. But we are glad nonetheless."

Barawen smirked weakly and raised an eyebrow.

"Noldo-neth? Another dreadful Lore-name from our beloved Haldir…," she said smugly. "Just call me Barawen…Legolas."

The two elves smiled and laughed at each other.

Legolas reached in his quiver for something, which piqued her curiosity. When she saw what it was, she was shocked for reasons that completely baffled her.

"My necklace!" she gasped, snatching it from him. "When I awoke without it, I thought it was gone, but this…"

She was distraught by its condition. There were scarce any beads left on it and the sapphire had cracked. She finally knew what Gladhor spoke of. Sure, it was sad to see the token of their love destroyed. But his token had bound her for far too long. It had kept her from forming connections with others, looming like a shadow. His memory had survived in sorrow, which was not something her love would ever wish for. Barawen smiled brightly, taking the shards in her palm.

"Thank you, Legolas. I will make this into something of great beauty again. One day. But for now…I have finally accomplished that which I set out to do." Barawen paused. "I have one last thing to accomplish but it will have to be done with the hands of elves. When this is over, will you take me to Mirkwood?"

He nodded, petting her head, soothing her anxious mind.

"Shh. No more from you. Rest. Regain your strength here before you think of other exploits. My realm shall always be open to you."

And he stayed with her until she fell back into the arms of sleep.

**Authoress Chat:**** I know how I want this to end. I am VERY clear on that. It's just that writing the end of things is difficult. I will probably make an epilogue because of the ending…it may be short. I don't know. We'll see…As always, read and review. Or else I shall CAST YOU INTO THE VOID!!!**


	15. 15 Who Do You Think You Are?

**Authoress Chat:**** My bad, my bad; I have been uber-busy, what with the spring semester of school starting up. But I am back. If my rate of productivity drops, please don't stake me for it. I'm really trying. So thanks for sticking around for the ride. I bring you …**

**Chapter Fifteen- Who Do You Think You Are?**

Barawen awoke later in the afternoon, able to catch the last rays of the sun on the horizon. It was a breathtaking view and it was one that she would remember for all of her days. Taking a deep inhale, she realized how much the war had changed the air and how she wished that she could erase the evils of the world.

Reflection was nigh, darkening her mood momentarily. Her mind had left the prison that had captivated it for three hundred years and she now saw clearly. This world had weighed her with a pungent sadness, as had the oaths that she had taken to serve and protect. And yes, Barawen has held those days as the happiest and the ones more worthy of memory but her immortal spirit was becoming preoccupied with other things.

These last few centuries had preoccupied her waking hours with the remembrance of the sadder ones, and she thought how foolish she had been and resolved to look forward. These days would soon be renewed and she would be free from the oaths of this world. On another note…

She was hungry.

/ / / / /

Barawen limped around the corridors of Gondor, attempting to keep as much pressure off of her leg as possible. She couldn't wait for the healers to check on her. She needed sustenance NOW. Skulking around the Halls, held up only by way of grasping the walls in a death grip, she finally found the place where the people of Gondor might fill their stomachs. And she found Gimli and Aragorn there, along with Gandalf.

Her spirit was so filled with happiness at the sight that she picked up her pace, completely forgetting how dangerous it was for her. Barawen stumbled and fell through the doorway, landing on her knees.

Aragorn looked over his shoulder to see what the noise was, and found Barawen struggling to stand up again.

"This was so much easier with the aid of a bed…and walls," she hissed, feeling the pain reverberate through the entire limb that her battle wound afflicted.

Aragorn and Gimli came over to pick her up from where she had fallen and bring her to the table. She sat down and dusted off, feeling the pungent sting of embarrassment on her face.

Aragorn sighed deeply, resting his chin in his hand.

"You really ought to take it easy. Your wound can still re-open if you move too much," Aragorn scolded.

The She-elf looked up from her consummate humiliation to give a response.

"I could not suffer to be a prisoner in that _dungeon_ any longer. There was absolutely nothing to stimulate my mind and, as wonderful as sleep may be, I require no more. But…I am sorry I made you worry."

Gimli leaned in closer, taking a great bite out of the cut of meat that he had been working on beforehand.

"Reckless and arrogant. It seems you are closer to recovery than we thought, lass," Gimli said, taking up a mug of beer and drinking with fervor.

Barawen looked down on him and had to stay her hand. She repeated over and over that he was just jesting and to let it go. So she did, though it was a slow process. Instead of thrashing him, she smiled and laughed, deciding to play like she was fine with being called 'arrogant.'

"You may be correct, Master Dwarf. I feel a lot better. Soon I will be active in my duties again, you will see. I will have acquired my former strength and then…_you _and the woodland elf will feel my wrath." She smirked. "But first, I require sustenance. What have you to eat?" she giggled.

/ / / / /

But her strength did not return. Though her wound was healing at a rate that defied logic, she did not feel the passion and heat of the strength of her father. Usually, Barawen felt a great fire in her palms and strength throughout her limbs, as hot as the light of Aman in its days of glory. But instead, she felt only calmness and a cool aura washing over her soul. It was as the touch of her mother, Meryë, whose healing did no harm to either party. This drew her to recall the last seconds she remembered on the fields of Pelennor.

"Legolas," she hissed, leaping from the sheets of her bed.

Against the wishes of those who preferred her to stay holed up in the Healing Houses, she began the slow walk to the room where the men were abiding, to confront him on the matter. Just what had the prince-ling done to her?!

When she finally did meet him, she nearly exploded. He was laughing about something or another with the dwarf and did not seem disheartened. Legolas didn't have to look behind himself to know that she was there. Legolas could feel her in his mind and her eyes of jade searing a hole in his back. Smirking, he turned around as slowly as possible.

"Oh, good morning, Lady Barawen," Legolas said in as kind a tone as he could muster.

Barawen felt herself reach a boiling point within herself. She could feel how prideful he really was underneath his façade and it unnerved her greatly. Tears swelling up, she hissed at him through clenched teeth.

"Could I speak with you, Legolas?"

He could sense that she was not playing in any shape or form, so he rose promptly, nodding Gimli's way to excuse himself. Barawen took him by the arm and lead him to the room in which she had taken up residence.

"What is it, Barawen?" he asked, as the two found a place on the bed together.

She faces him and with tears falling freely, she grasped his palms and stroked them gently, yet with purpose. Gripping his hands painfully tight, she wept.

"What happened as I lied dying in Pelennor Fields?"

"Baraw-"

"Tell me!" she shouted. "I need to know. What happened?"

Legolas looked down and then began to recount his version of the events.

"You were so badly injured and I was so scared that you were dying. Perhaps, because I could see the light going from your eyes, And so I held your hands. I do not know why, but a white and silver light came from your body. Then- I saw them. I saw your parents," he finally admitted. "Your mother and father had me take on some of your injuries by joining our fëa for a time."

Her eyes went blank as she had no thought occupying her mind. If what he said was true, could it be that she has forfeited her other-worldly strength to him?

Legolas could feel the burden of deep sorrow and shaken confidence weighted heavily on his heart. It did not take a genius to put the two things together. The joining had changed Barawen in a way that no party involved had foreseen. For one, he could clearly feel the emotions of the She-elf, whenever they were string enough. It was taxing. And also, he had taken on some of her properties.

"You have taken my strength," she swallowed, gulping hard and bowing her head.

Legolas shook his head in disbelief. And the room was silent, even though her anger was rising.

"I'm sorry, Barawen. I did whatever I did in an attempt to save you. I had no intention of stealing anything your parents gave to you," he said sincerely, reaching to touch her shoulders, which trembled in anger.

But it was pushed away violently.

"How could you possibly know what that gift meant to me? The only time I feel my father's presence strongly is when I fight. Your father is here and you may see him or feel him whenever you wish. I do not have such fortune! How do you know how I feel? For the first, I feel weak. I feel helpless. I have never suffered so much in this way. And for the first time, I cannot bear to look at you. Please…just _leave_ Thranduillion," he whispered, casting him a glance of fury mingled with sadness.

**Authoress Chat:**** I know, I know. Evil me. Never fear, for I promise a Legomance. Just be patient.**

**For the record, I thought to make her reaction more gentle (for those who say I have made her too agro) but it would be completely out of character for her. She is far too stubborn to hang back and accept it. I mean, would YOU? By my math, she is 7112 years old. How would you feel if one day you woke up and your power had been snatched out from under you? Let me know. REVIEW. It boosts my moral and helps me get an idea if where to move the story. Thanks.**


	16. 16 Why I Stars

**Authoress Chat: ****Hey guys. Two chapters this time! Just a reminder, if you read PLEASE review. If you like it, don't just click favs on your Google Browser and come to read on some odd day. If you read and you like, review because it makes me feel like writing. I want to make something for all to enjoy, not just me. So, even if you think it's freaking awful, TELL ME!!! Thank you.**

**Chapter Sixteen- Why I? (Stars)**

Legolas returned to the room that he had come from, feeling just as disheartened as she did. And for once, he could say nothing. After all, she was right. How could he know what it was like to be robbed of a gift you had held for millennia? How could he know what it was like to wake up one day and be powerless? He would just have to wait for her to calm down. Then again…waiting was difficult for Legolas.

Gimli noticed the dark cloud that haunted his friend and clung stagnantly in the room.

"What happened to _you_, laddie? Did the lass have an unkind word with you? Really…I thought you'd have gotten used to the idle threats by now."

Legolas narrowed his eyes in Gimli's direction, casting a look that could kill. And it was a look that Gimli returned without hesitation.

"As poisonous as your looks can be, they still don't answer my question."

Legolas sat down on a chair near the dwarf and closed his eyes tightly.

"'Unkind word' does not do justice to what I just experienced. She is usually childlike, somewhat indignant. She also plays as if she is calm and attempts to hide her anger. This is the first time that she has not done so…for I have taken something so dear to her, which cannot be replaced, that I fear she has lost all faith in whatever fellowship may have formed between us."

Gimli nodded and laid his hand on his beard, stroking its ruddy lengths.

"So, what will you do about it? What did you take from her anyways?" he grumbled.

Legolas looked up, his eyes as dark as a turbulent sea.

"I have taken her strength. It was an unfortunate act, and a consequence of the binding that took place to save her life."

Gimli damn near choked on his spit.

"What did ye say? You took her strength? I'm surprised verbal assault is all you experienced," he said, hoping to earn at least a whisper of a smile.

Legolas wanted to return the playful banter but he just felt too bad at the moment. But the effort was appreciated nonetheless. A small grin cracked his lips and he sighed.

"Look, she will cool off. It's not an easy change to make. It's easy to make up with power. It is more difficult to arise with none. When she is ready, she will let you know."

Legolas smirked, regaining a wind of his youthful arrogance.

"Is that so, Master Dwarf?" he teased.

The two of them laughed heartily and began to prepare for the upcoming meeting of the minds.

/ / / / /

Much to her discontent, Barawen did not have any choice but to stand by and listen to the council discuss their next course of action. She noticed that King Théoden was not present and it filled her with a brief twinge of sadness. She had wished to know a little more of him, but time had a will of its own and she left the matter at that as she sat down.

Her leg was barely scarred anymore, but rather stiff, with a slight biting sensation with every step. It was enough to bother her from time to time. And in the remembrance of _annoying_ things, her gaze drifted over to her kin. He was avoiding her gaze as well.

'Good,' she thought. 'He is wiser than I gave him credit. He will rue the day that he dares to look at me again.'

Gandalf spoke first to those that had gathered in the court.

"Frodo had passed beyond my sight." He began to pace, troubled deeply. "The darkness is deepening."

Aragorn, refusing to hear such negativity, responded calmly, "If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it."

And though they all felt that this was most probably true, the White Rider had no such hope in his heart…at least, not as strong as theirs.

"It's only a matter of time."

Legolas' eyes narrowed as their morale's sunk a little lower. But still, they listened. Perhaps if he was disheartened, the situation was worse than first feared.

"He has suffered a defeat yes…but behind the walls of Mordor, our enemy is regrouping."

Gimli, though previously engaged in his pipe smoking, exhaled to give his say.

"Let him stay there. Let him rot! Why should we care?"

Barawen struggled, successfully, to stifle a giggle. Though he were of dwarf-kind, he had a way about him that made her like him…a lot more than she thought she might.

Her moment of whimsy was dashed as Gandalf brought the focus back to the main objective.

"Because ten thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom."

Gimli exhaled deeply, as Barawen laid a hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met in an understanding gesture that boosted both of their spirits, despite the mood of despair.

"I've sent him to his death."

Silence fell over them at that utterance, as Aragorn turned to face Mithrandir. He was adamant in his convictions.

"No," he said. "There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

There was brief pause at the bold statement.

"How?" Gimli asked.

"Draw out Sauron's armies. Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."

Gimli nearly choked on his pipe as Barawen exclaimed in absolute disbelief.

"It is suicide! I cannot believe that would even be an _option_!" she said, recalling her days heading a battalion of the Galadhrim.

And it was so, for there was no way the surviving warriors could contend with another surge of thousands. It was a death wish! And it seemed that Éomer agreed.

"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms," he said, stepping closer to Aragorn.

Aragorn explained his stance to those who questioned this battle strategy.

"Not for ourselves. But we can give Frodo this chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moves."

Legolas lifted his head in understanding.

"A diversion."

'I could have gone through this meeting just fine, were it not for his talking,' Barawen said, casting him a look that she wished could wound him. Gandalf came face to face with Aragorn, telling him in simpler words what others were thinking.

"Sauron will suspect a trap. He will not take the bait."

Barawen's head hung low, cursing silently under her breath, as the smoke from Gimli's pipe surrounded her, deepening her profound sense of anxiety.

"Certainty of death…small chance of success…what are we waiting for?"

Her fists clenched as she mumbled, "Do what you will. This is no longer my concern," and she picked up the hem of her dress from the floor and walked away from the room. But Legolas had heard her.

'This is no longer my concern?' he thought. 'What is she thinking? Is this war not the reason why she even ventured to Helm's Deep? She not only ventured but stayed. So whence come this apathy? I can feel that she spoke no lie. What is she thinking?'

**Authoress Chat: ****So lookit here… you remember when I said this would be over in 2.5 to 3 chapters? Well, it looks like I lied. I wanted to finish so bad, I tried to speed it up. And their romance ended up like Cheesy Horse Sh*t. So yeah…I'm evil. Please review. All that jazz…**


	17. 17 Mine for Life

**Chapter Seventeen- Mine for Life**

Barawen was unreadable to anyone as she wandered about like a ghost. She could barely sort out the great wash of feelings stirring in her but they all reeked of a sense of helplessness. Nothing about this situation was in her control.

'I have no power, no say in whether or not my friends go rushing off to their death…I couldn't even join them if I wanted to because of this leg! If I see the prince, I'm going to-' she thought before someone grabbed her arm from behind.

Her eyes closed, she already knew who it was. His aura was unmistakable.

"What do you need, Oh Prince?" she said, trying to stop her hand from swinging.

Legolas sighed in aggravation, letting go of her arm.

"Are you _really _that angry with me? I told you I was sorry! I didn't mean to steal anything from you."

Her eyes still shut; she turned around and gave a testy response.

"You have absolutely no idea how deep the offense runs. It's not just power to kill that you have stolen; it is the power to defend. It is the power to choose whether to be a bystander or to join in conflict. It is the power to choose to join your friends in a mass suicide to save the world that you have come to love. That is what you I have lost. How can you ask me to let it go?" she growled, balling her fists and pinning them to her sides.

Legolas saw her body grow rigid and felt as if his heart were going to burst. And Barawen felt her heart grow heavy and tears deep within the pit of her soul. Finally, the courage surfaced in her and she got a grip on her threatening rage, opening her eyes. When she did, she found Legolas' eyes a darker shade of blue.

"I am sorry. I made a choice that I thought I would save you. But perhaps it was not a wise choice. Perhaps there was another way," Legolas said.

The trying feeling of depression waxed in her heart and she realized that she was feeling his emotions. It wasn't like her to feel guilt. He had to be telling the truth.

Her gazer softened as she reached out for his hand and stroked his heated palm. Her cheeks grew warmer as she felt her father with her. She grew misty for a brief moment and gave a sigh of submission.

"Did I tell you that I saw Gladhor…Legolas?" she asked. "He assured me that the great burden that had befallen me would be lifted and I would see happiness anew. I believe…I may finally understand what I meant."

She looked in her his confused stare and then spoke in voice reflecting of her great age.

"Legolas, the strength that you bear is a gift. Treat it with great care, for it shall make you greater than any Sinda before or after. The Light of Aman exists in this, a token of fellowship with Tulkas Astaldo. And if you mind it as such, then it will be a gift to all those who follow in your line. Do you understand?" she said, taking an authoritative posture.

Legolas smiled and nodded.

"I understand…Barawen. And, for the record, you were strong, even without your power. You have a spirit that never quits. Believe me…I can tell," he said, grinning even wider.

Her cheeks blushed a fierce pink and she coughed to break the tension.

"Well, that may be so, Legolas. But we still have work to do. Give me an hour to train you before you prepare to fight to the death. I'd hate to see you break one of the last bows of the Galadhrim."

/ / / / /

Legolas huffed as he cleaned off his knuckles of blood remnants.

This was turning into more than an hour. Barawen had donned her blue cloak again and was rested against one of the bricks that had been used for the catapults and he had been punching another one for an hour, trying to crack the rock. She had done nothing but look on and criticize his imperfect use of her gift to him.

"This is harder than it looks," he gasped, shaking the pain from his hand.

"You have had the benefit of not being one of my inferiors. I was both hated and loved by my battalion. And I am actually going easy on you. I can't show you, obviously, and I don't have the benefit of centuries to train you-"

"Train me?" Legolas interjected, insulted at the idea of someone who had lost thrice to him 'training' him.

"Yes," she stated matter-of-factly. "To be honest, you're a long-range fighter. Yes, you can be deadly accurate up-close but I have always had a sword by my side. I relied on my strength. I was always aware of my strength and how much was called for. But I was expecting the rock to have broken by now…"

She came closer to him, starring at him like an angry general.

"To be honest, I am only _doing_ this because you have the strength to strike through flesh at your palms but you can't even crack a rock. Damn it, Thranduillion, it is a ROCK! Own your power or live in fear of it! Your choice…" Barawen said, coming up close to his face.

They exchanged a heated stare-down before Legolas turned away and struck through the rock with a resounding punch. His face dropped at the thought that this sort of power was never a thought away. 'She was going easy on me when we sparred,' he scoffed in his head.

Barawen smiled.

"Congratulations, Green-elf. You are now mightier than a rock."

**Authoress Chat:**** LOL. Poor Legolas…to have to suffer Elven-boot camp. Oh well. As always, read and review.**


	18. 18 Summertime

**Chapter Eighteen- Summertime**

Legolas winced as he put his hands inside of Barawen's and allowed her to heal them. Her hands no longer glowed purple, instead taking on a silver hue and he felt a great calmness was over him. Once they had mended nicely, he sat beside her amongst the rubble that he had created.

"So…I have to ask," Legolas said, turning to face Barawen. "Why is it that my hands look as if they have never been touched?"

She looked at him and crossed her arms over her chest, blushing.

"I have no idea, Legolas," she said. "I suppose that we have exchanged powers…or something of the sort. Perhaps, it has made my healing power greater. I have not ever used it with such potency before. Even now, my leg heals, without the assistance of another."

Legolas and Barawen looked at each other and away as a faint rose graced their cheeks.

"Your parents are wise. I know that you will save many lives and be…"

He was cut off by her hand being clapped over his mouth. She starred at him as he gave her a stiff look of confusion. Her eyes were misty and dim, lacking their usual light.

"Take care of yourself. I mean it!" she sighed, her breath shaking as her hand fell. "I cannot be with you this time. If you fall…," she trailed off. "I don't think I could ever forgive myself."

Legolas was at a complete loss for words and his face was devoid of emotion. Was she being emotional for him? Since when was she about to cry for _him_?

"Barawen…I will be fine. Do not worry for me."

She got up to leave, looking over her shoulder.

"Just remember what I have said. I've grown fond of you."

/ / / / /

Barawen went back to the Healing Houses to find some solace before the Men went off on what was probably to be their last fight. 'Idiots,' she thought to herself. Then again, she reminded herself that Haldir probably thought the same of her, to leave Lothlórien, even with the overwhelming risk of death. If Legolas or Gimli or anyone else were really important to her, she had to learn to support them in their times of lesser judgment. After all, everyone thought her a goner too.

She smiled and came over to a small window. Underneath of it there was a bench and a desk with quills and parchment. She sat down, gazing over it. The healers had written notes about her. 'Petulant…Disagreeable…High-strung.' Crumpling up their ill-placed notes, she grabbed a quill and filled it with ink. She had in her mind something to do.

About an hour into her writing, she received a visit from the Lady of Eorl, Éowyn.

"Barawen!" she cried, rushing over to her friend and hugging her with her free arm.

Barawen hugged her back and went back to writing on her parchment. Then she scratched it out. Her eyes met with Éowyn's, smiling.

"I'm sorry, Éowyn. It brings me joy to find you are doing better. I had heard that you fought and survived but I was kept here by my own injuries."

Éowyn grabbed a seat beside her. She tried to read what Barawen but couldn't make it out, for it was in Elvish…or scribbles.

"What are you working on?" Éowyn asked looking at Barawen's smudged hands.

"I am writing a song. But I have not figured out the words. I am not so gifted in the ways of poetry but I do not have much else to do. My leg is still not in peak condition."

Éowyn nodded.

"So, why are the Men leaving? I tried to talk to Éomer before he left but he was even less vocal than usual about these things. I don't think he wanted me to worry."

Barawen nodded, dropping the quill and wiping her hands on the gown she wore. She looked at her friend with an air of seriousness.

"In the spirit of change, I will ask whether you want me to tell you the kinder version or if you wish me to be brutally honest."

Éowyn raised an eyebrow, attempting to crack a smile as anticipation rose in her chest.

"What do you suppose I want to hear?"

Barawen smiled, recognizing the similarities in their temperaments.

"They have gone off to lay their lives down at the Black Gate, to assist Frodo in destroying the Ring. He is already at the Plains of Gorgoroth."

Éowyn's face grew grave as she nodded.

"I understand. And yet, I don't. I wish that this war would be over! I want to see the days that my uncle fought and died for."

Barawen smiled and shook her head.

"I feel…the _exact_ same way. This is the first fight that I have not leapt at the chance to participate in. I want so badly to help. But all I can do is await the return of those… I have grown accustomed to. That is, if they return at all," she sighed. "What happened to your arm?" she asked a little less than tactfully.

"It was broken," she admitted, grasping the bound arm.

Barawen rolled her eyes.

"Oh for goodness sake, bring your arm here, Éowyn," she snapped, reaching for the sling.

Her hand glowed silver and her work began but the hand was jerked away quickly. It shook in pain, her pupils dilated in fear.

"Oh my…what were you doing, Éowyn? A great evil touched here and destruction followed in its wake. What did this to you?" she asked in a deeper voice.

Éowyn paused and reflected on the flight, recalling the horror of the encounter with the Lord of Cirith Ungol.

"It was the Witch-king…"

"Of Angmar…," Barawen finished. Éowyn nodded in agreement. "You were struck with his morning-star."

Confusion passed between the two.

The binding of fëa with Legolas had built up her healing to an extent that rivaled even her mothers. She had sensed and saw the injury happening in bits and pieces as her magic penetrated the injury. Grasping Éowyn's arm firm, she restarted the mending of the wound, putting aside the great suffering that she experienced within her mind. She had endured worse in the receiving of her gifts in the first place.

_The Ice was cold and penetrated the shoes of the shivering Noldorin host. The only guide to them was the numerous stars and it barely sated the need for Light amongst the turbulence in the oceans of Ulmo. In the air hung crystals, on their breath bitter ice and in their bones was a fire which many succumbed to. And just when it felt as if her lungs would explode, Sárawen crossed the Grinding Ice completely, behind the blue and white banners of their Lord, Fingolfin, clinging desperately to her parents. The sun had risen behind them, warming them. Her intense pain had taught her endurance… and following it, her father taught her strength._

Once she had healed Éowyn's arm, Barawen's brow was drenched in sweat. Shaking, she staggered over to the bed to lie down and fell asleep.

"Thank you," Éowyn whispered, untying the sling and pulling the elleth up further into the sheets.

Her attention went back to the scribbles on parchment. Perhaps she would hear the poem later.

**Authoress Note:**** I don't have much to say, except that I REALLY enjoy working on any scene involving the Silmarilion. There is so much history there, but it is vague enough to play with. I can be as descriptive as I wish without really changing canon. Hooray for creative license! Read and review, save a child in Haiti. Not sure how that'll work but…yeah.**


	19. 19 Sweet Dreams

**Chapter Nineteen- Sweet Dreams**

Legolas mounted Arod, along with his Dwarven friend and began the slow tread to the Black Gate. He felt the earth's cried of pain and screams only got worse as he got closer to the Land of the Dark Lord. But above all, he thought of Lady Barawen and her final words to him.

'Take care of yourself. I mean it!'

In his sights, the fortress of Sauron became clearly visible. He remained hopeful that he would live to see his newfound ally once again. However, he was fully prepared to die to complete his mission. And he came to the Black Lord's lands at last, casting all other thought from his mind and summoning all courage and strength to his body.

The horses came to a stall before the gates and awaited Sauron to acknowledge them. But they waited…and waited. Finally, Pippin whispered, just audibly what everyone else had been feeling.

"Where are they?"

/ / / / /

Barawen slept off the intense pain that she had forced upon herself. The touch of great evil was a heavy burden upon those of Elf-kind and she was no exception. Her dreams were black and red and more dismal than the Void. And she could not awake and escape them, caught deep in the grips of terror. Yet, she could give no name to this fear…

/ / / / /

"Fall back! Fall back!" Aragorn shouted as Orc began to spill forth from Mordor.

And Legolas followed. His heart lay in the bottom of his chest, upon hearing from the foul Mouth of Sauron that Frodo had been killed. How could this have happened? Was their quest dead as well? Was this now worth it?

These dark questions swirled in his head as he made up his mind on the matter. Of course it was worth it. They had to be lies! If Sauron were still a giant ball of flame, them he had not the Ring and so either Frodo or Sam was alive. As long as Sauron was without the Ring, their quest still had merit and had to be seen through.

Aragorn, knowing this as well, began to speak words of encouragement to the Men in his command.

"Hold your ground! Hold your ground," he called, putting an end to their jittery movements. "Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields…when the age of Men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight!"

Pride and strength swelled in the hearts of those in the command of Isildur's heir.

"By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!"

Raising his sword in defiance of the creature of filth that came forward, he prepared to run headlong into the arms of Death.

Legolas took notice of the massive force that encircled their smaller force of fighters and took a deep breath inwards, freeing his mind of as much of the fear as he could. This was bigger than him, he reminded himself, as he felt strength lending itself to all of his extremities as he dismounted from his steed, helping Gimli down as well. Less than cheerfully, Gimli spoke to his most unlikely friend.

"Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an Elf."

Legolas just couldn't keep the smirk from popping up on his lips, responding in a voice that held more cheer than he actually felt at the moment.

"What about side by side with a friend?"

Their eyes met and a deep fondness expressed between them.

"Aye. I could do that."

There was a united deep breath and the air grew silent, despite the threatening calamity. And Aragorn, after a long while, turned to his friends and smiled.

"For Frodo."

And the Hobbits began to charge behind him, followed by Gandalf and Legolas and Gimli and all of their allies. Against the deep pit of evil that surrounded them. Legolas began firing valiantly and soon crashed against the Orcs of Mordor with great ferociousness.

/ / / / /

Éowyn went back to check on Barawen, assessing her current condition. She could tell that Barawen had suffered greatly to heal the wounds inflicted the Nazgûl and felt somewhat guilty for such. Walking forward, she found Barawen tossing in her dreams, sweating.

Éowyn plopped down beside her, laying a hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently.

The elleth was unresponsive, so Éowyn tried again, shaking her harder this time around. Barawen awoke in a start, grasping Éowyn tightly. Although surprised, Éowyn gripped her tightly as well. It was a rare occasion for Barawen to be in such an openly emotional state, so it had to have been serious business.

"You are safe. It was but a night terror. No more. It was not real," Éowyn spoke softly, stroking the Elf's cheek.

Barawen shook her head, looking with a depth into Éowyn's eyes.

"No. It was not a dream. It was the greatest terror I have ever experienced. I cannot describe the pain or the fathoms of emotion but it was very real. Something is wrong…"

/ / / / /

Legolas watched as Aragorn exchanged blows with a troll under Sauron's command. The monster was big certainly, but Aragorn was undoubtedly the better swordsman. And they fought each other for some time, whilst Legolas made his share of victims.

He grasped an Orc by a fistful of hair and kicked him, sending the beast skidding back several feet, flipping over his own neck and landing in the dirt. He didn't get back up, so the Elf-prince figured that he had probably broken his own neck. Relishing the kill but momentarily, Legolas plunged his knives into the neck of the next. The area around him slightly cleared, he looked for more Orc, and instead saw Aragorn being flung to the ground by an ill parry with the troll.

Legolas felt the air rush from his lungs, as it felt as if he had been punched in the gut. Orcs appeared from in front, blocking him as he tried to run to his friend's aid. Legolas pushed the filthy creatures to the side, but they became too numerous and eventually pushed him back.

"Aragorn!"

/ / / / /

"Legolas!" Barawen called out simultaneously, leaping up from the bed,

Éowyn looked on her, worry setting upon the both of them. The elleth's hair stood on end, her eyes wide and breathe racy. There was so much panic churning in her stomach she thought she might vomit. How dare he put himself in this situation? Why hadn't he listened?

"Something has happened to them. There is so much fear I can smell it," she said as calmly as she could. "We must prepare a place for the injured. There may be many casualties."

Éowyn nodded, standing tall beside the She-elf.

"We will prepare whatever we can for them. And, Barawen…"

She turned her head to look.

"They will return. Hope is not yet lost."

**Authoress Note:**** Alright, alright; I did a bad thing. I KNOW I cut out the part with the Mouth of Sauron. But it is only because I did not have the sound bite to pull dialogue from. It would have ended up…wonky…to say the least. So instead, I wrote in Legolas' dark emotions via her dreams and hopefully it established their bonds and elevated the horror of the whole set up. So…that said: Read, review, all that jazz…**


	20. 20 Brown Eyes

**Authoress Chat:**** I apologize in advance if it gets mushy from here. But it is love story so … don't say I didn't warn you.**

**Chapter Twenty- Brown Eyes**

True to her word, Barawen collected all of the utensils that she could find, from bandages, to healing ointments and salves. All the while, she struggled with the panic rising in her chest.

"Barawen," Lady Éowyn called her out of her rapture. "You're crying."

Barawen reached up to her face and felt the wetness dripping from her chin. But she had absolutely no idea why she was doing so. From the unexpected sadness, her senses became more acute. There was a faint roar from this distance.

Leaving a confused friend, Barawen ran through the halls of Gondor, breaking through the doors of the Main Hall to overlook the situation. Over the mountains, she saw a great pillar of fire and billows of smoke. Mount Doom belched fire and destruction and amid all of that, was the sight of the Eagles…

She walked back to the room where she had left Éowyn.

"What is going on?" she demanded. "You left so suddenly…"

"They will come swiftly on great birds. They bring two hobbits with them. I fear that if we are not at the ready, they will not last. Prepare two beds for them. Their work must be immediate."

And she was correct. Frodo and Sam were bought forth on the wings of the Eagles and laid gently into the waiting arms of Barawen and another healer. They were caked in dirt and the unspeakable filth of the Black Land. Intensely pitying, Barawen held Frodo's body closer to hers, kissing his forehead. She couldn't be sure what damage had been done to his body but from the rattling sound in his chest, one of his lungs had probably suffered in the searing heat. He was fading fast.

Laying him gently in the bed, she began quick work, her silver light enveloping his body. The Light of the Trees hung in the air, creating a mist like before but utterly more stunning. It was a silver chill in the air, soft and lovely, crystallizing into tiny beads of white and silver ice and lingering close to his weary body. His body was cleansed of evil, his wounds closed and his complexion adjusted to suit that which lived. Yes, they became as distant memories, save for two, which could not be undone. Where the Morgul blade of the Witch-king had sliced no magic would mend and where the Ring had been born on his finger, the residual Light would not go. For the Light was able to heal wounds elsewhere but was not sufficient for such crafts, being diluted in its ages of lying dormant. She wrapped his finger, staunching the bleeding.

It was with the healing of Frodo that she was finally freed. Smiling at the brave Halfling, there was joy amongst those who knew him intimately, as her eyes caught the fascinated face of the Elf-prince, Legolas. And the two of them leapt at each other, held together like magnets.

She cried on his shoulder, standing on her tip-toes. Her lips found his ear, whispering to him.

"I felt so terrified in your absence. I thought I had lost you."

He hushed her, running his fingers through her hair.

"Do not weep. This is a time of joy. You have lived to see your dreams realized."

She let go of the Mirkwood Elf and they looked into each other's eyes, finding they were blushing **hard**. Barawen looked over to Gandalf, Aragorn and Gimli, smiling.

"He will heal in due time and the lands of Gondor will follow. I am proud to have been in the service of the King…Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

He shook his head and came closer.

"No. You have served yourself and your people as well. We have all had a victory today. And tonight we will celebrate. The court will make a grand meal. I hope that you are well enough to join."

She nodded.

"Yes. I will make myself decent for the occasion. I thank you, Elessar," she laughed lightly, releasing Legolas.

Barawen walked off and down the hall, towards Éowyn's accommodations. She had to see her for information on bathing houses and dress makers.

Once she was safely out of earshot, Gimli began to gawf over Legolas' behavior. It was an outrageous fit of laughs that bought the color of shame to the Elf's face.

"What?" he asked, crossing his arms. Aragorn began to laugh even harder.

"Extraordinary. You both have become quite attached to the other. It is a far cry from your initial dislike," Aragorn nodded, leaving as well to bathe himself, with the wizard following behind him.

Legolas looked down at Gimli.

"Do you think the same? And why is it such a shocking thing? She is very much changed."

Gimli looked at him as if he were an idiot, raising his eyebrow and huffing. He shook his head, walking off, out of the room. Legolas was not satisfied and he proceeded to follow, demanding an explanation. Gimli smirked, walking towards the bathhouse.

"You may not hide the truth from your own self forever. You're more than _fond_ of each other and ye both know it!"

Legolas stopped dead in his tracks, pondering the truth of those words. H

He had not ever found himself fancying an elleth, regardless of the beauty she might possess. And they did follow him. They clung to him like ticks, begging for his attention. There was none in the woods of Mirkwood which drew his gaze for long. But she…Barawen was nothing like them. Sometimes it seemed as though she would have nothing to do with him. He seemed but a small chapter in the novel that was her life. Not to mention, her grace succeeded the grace of the Silvan Elves, being of the Eldar. She had a quieter grace, one that did not show for all but once revealed opened up to all what she truly was; the child of the First Elves.

When he came to the conclusion that he did have a deal more than 'fondness' for her, Gimli was not there. Clearing his mind, we walked across the hall to his room, preparing himself to bathe as well.

/ / / / /

Barawen and Éowyn took a bath together, striking up a conversation strictly meant for just girls.

Éowyn sighed, "I am glad for the Ring bearer. He has bought great times for all."

Barawen nodded, dipping her head in the water and washing it clean.

"It has been an age marred by stress. But that time is at an end. It has passes from pain and despair to the time of Men."

Éowyn did not fully understand but gave her friend an answer not reflecting in her slight confusion. It was another topic altogether.

"I must ask, what is the song you were writing. It is in a tongue I do not recognize."

Barawen smiled.

"Very few hold that tongue in memory. It must be my secret…I fear that the sounds will draw unintended ears. Besides, it is not wholly completed and I take pride in making any works great. When it is in its perfection, you shall hear it the first."

"Whose ears count as unintended?"

Barawen cut her a sideways glance.

"The Elf?"

Barawen scoffed less than believably. Her blush was soft but there was no hiding it.

"No. He does not count as unintended," she whispered, sinking below the water slightly.

Éowyn whispered back, floating closer to Barawen.

"So…you want him to listen?"

Bubbles floated to the surface, producing a gurgling, 'No.'

Éowyn shook her head laughing.

"Come. It will soon be dinner time and we must make ourselves suitable!"

**REVIEW PLEASE! It isn't fair to read stuff over and over again and not review. If you like it, review. It really does inspire me and let me know I am on the right track. Please let me know what you think.**


	21. 21 Bad Romance

**Authoress Chat:**** I apologize right now if I have made you wait. I have begun to torture myself and I have great things that must begin to work. That small thing being said, I thank you for the love. The last chapter was the first chapter that people actually reviewed to so thanks. So…let the madness ensue…**

**Chapter Twenty-One- Bad Romance**

Barawen found her way out of the bath and was gifted a gown of light blue, It trailed to the ground and flared at the arms. Binding the arms at the elbow and waist, was white and silver threads and upon her crown a silver threaded headpiece, adorned by white beads. It sat lightly on her head and gently above her brow.

Éowyn wore a yellow dress of similar construct, with a white sash and white headdress of her own, covering her hair, revealing but the section towards the small of her back. On her brow there resided great joy and she was eager to enjoy the cheer with her brother and friends…and her new-found interest, Faramir.

They walked together to the Hall, and began to mingle with the Men of Gondor. Enjoying herself, Barawen took up a glass of sweet wine and walked with her friend, eyeing them all, scanning the room for one in particular.

"It is good to see others so gay. They heighten my own spirits," Barawen said, sipping from her glass and feeling it pass through her like water.

Éowyn nodded.

"I am glad. This is a great day, to be immortalized forever by all free people. We have seen the fruit of our labors."

Looking to her side, she saw Faramir and pointed to him.

"I'm going to talk with him. I will…see you later."

Barawen laughed.

"Do not worry about offending me. Go and see him. I will entertain myself in your absence. Do not keep him waiting," she smiled, shooing Éowyn away.

Barawen saw herself to a table and began to eat. She did not engage in much chatter, instead listening to all that happened around her and eating her feelings.

/ / / / /

Legolas and Gimli screamed to get ready as it was quite late. They had spent much of their time chatting idly. Most of it was about their plans after Aragorn's coronation. But there were other things that needed to be discussed.

"What if you are correct?" Legolas asked, re-braiding his hair. "What if I have become enamored of the Lady Barawen? What does that mean?"

Gimli took a deep breath in.

"Lady Barawen? I thought you had agreed to drop the titles of your names in favor of more familiar terms. I haven't heard _Thranduilion_ in-"

Legolas sighed loudly, clearly meaning to end the inquiry, massaging brow.

"Enough. I know what I must do then. I just have to summon the courage to do so."

/ / / / /

Barawen had since been joined by the company of Éomer and Aragorn. They chattered merrily as they enjoyed their fill of alcoholic beverages. The elleth, barely affected by the beverages, enjoyed the vibrant energy of them that were most affected by the victory.

"He was barely able to control himself. He jumped off of the horse and onto that foul beast!" Éomer laughed.

Barawen found her body wracked with laughs as well, despite being preoccupied with her own feeling. They swirled dangerously inside of her, hither and thither. She had been so indescribably happy when Legolas was proven to alive and when he held her close…she didn't ever want that feeling to stop. She was so bogged down with thought that she began to consider withdrawing. Before she got the chance, she gripped firmly on the shoulder from behind. Turning around, she was highly pleased with who she saw.

"Legolas."

His eyes were smiling as he whispered.

"I need to talk to you."

She nodded and took his hand, helped off of the bench. Barawen then began to walk behind him. When they were safely out of the dining hall and down an empty corridor, they began to talk.

"You are very…adequately dressed," she began.

Though, in her eyes, he was a far cry from 'adequate.' No…a more fitting description was exquisite. His tunic had been crafted by the Elves, blue and crisp as the morning sky. She was completely taken by the sight, her heart threatening to beat itself clear through her chest. But, by the grace of the Valar, she managed to speak intelligibly.

"What did you need to discuss?"

He paused to take in the sight of her.

"I felt the need to speak candidly with you. And may I say that you look similarly…adequate."

She looked at him, smiling.

"Well…I was not under the impression that you were previously hiding anything. But I will gladly listen."

He gulped, pulling himself together and began.

"I have been struggling for a while with the bond that has been forged between us. It is not the bond which was summoned by your parents. I have long before felt the desire for your company and companionship and-"

He stopped, as she had gone absolutely blank and trembled slightly. Her hands found their way to her mouth, as she pressed her body against the wall. He could not be sure of her feelings, as they all hit him at once.

"I am sorry if I have offended or frightened you. I just could not hold my thoughts any longer."

She had tears in her eyes, but blinked them back, her pride fighting valiantly with her reason. Sinking to the floor, her knees weak, she pondered why the words she had longed to say herself frightened her so. Legolas' look was grim.

"Please…say something."

"I have spent centuries in misery, missing the companionship of love. And I thought that companionship had been lost to me forever. But here I am, drawn into you and unable to express the depth of happiness that such simple words have tided. I fear the thought of losing you more than anything. I meant what I said; I could not possibly forgive myself for losing you."

Legolas knelt down to her and cupped her face gently in his hand. Her hand held tightly to the one that ran across her alabaster skin. It was warm as sunlight and made her feel more strongly than she had felt in many years.

"Do not weep. And do not fear that which is not yet upon us. The future is bright and clear. I wish to court you."

She fell into his arms gingerly, clinging to him with a tender passion.

"Yes, Legolas. I will allow you to court me."

She detached herself somewhat quickly, gazing into his eyes and drinking in the features of his face, whilst he did the same. And as though they could read each other's minds, Barawen and Legolas were soon caught by the other's lips and shared a moment of intimacy which seemed to move earth and sky and put pause to the flow of time.

**A/N:**** Don't slay me! I COULDN'T RESIST IT ANY LONGER!!! I wanted them to kiss AGES ago. How much longer could I have kept their love bottled up? I held off their confessions until all three of us threatened to explode under the pressure. IF YOU LIKED IT REVIEW!! I have new COOKIES…**


	22. 22 A Dangerous Mind

**Chapter Twenty-Two- A Dangerous Mind**

Barawen and Legolas walked back together, hand in hand. It was a curious thing, the bonding of Elves. They were much stronger connections and the surrender to their desires of heart proved to be a terribly difficult thing to undo. Each of them was noticeably different. They held their heads higher, walked a little slower and seemed to be within sync.

The bliss on their faces shone bright, and they were confronted by their friends.

"You were gone for a long time. I trust all went well?" Gimli winked.

They looked to each other and exchanged defeated expressions.

"You can say that," Legolas sighed, still looking into the emerald eyes of his Lady.

She smiled and looked away to Gimli.

"It was well. Our conversation was quite enjoyable."

It was as if their hands were bound be glue, for they seemed to be on a completely different wavelength than before, one only for them to enjoy.

Mithrandir could see it clearly for what it was and his tongue held back no wit.

"Then this night is in celebration of the establishment of love as well. May you find peace and happiness."

The Elven couple bowed towards the Grey-pilgrim.

"Thank you," Legolas said in a most grateful tone before they walked off together, full of grace/

The Wizard, Man, Dwarf and Hobbits looked at the pair sauntering off into the crowd.

"I win the bet," Pippin said happily. "They got on with each other before Aragorn was crowned!"

/ / / / /

Legolas and Barawen found their way towards Éowyn and Faramir and the four of them sat in companionship, sipping tart beer and enjoying the company of friends. Éowyn, slightly tipsy, congratulated the elleth.

"I am so happy for you! You know that the other's had a wager on when you two would become…_attached_," she whispered.

Barawen giggled, remembering Pippin's words.

"Apparently so. I heard the Halfling proclaim that he had won."

Legolas was absolutely flabbergasted, most unhappy that his love-life had been wagered on. And that it was a bet that he had lost. But he was happy to lose.

"Were we that obvious? It seems that _everyone_ had already arranged us beforehand," he said in a voice as playful as ever.

Éowyn and Faramir laughed loudly, casting each other similar glances.

"Well, if it is a consolation, I would not have guessed, were it not for the way you now carry yourselves. You both have a way about you that makes it apparent that your hearts are spoken for. And there's no shame to that! " Faramir beamed.

Laughter alight in the air, the festivities continued on until dawn. However, Barawen and Legolas had walked out to their earlier training ground together, long before the end of things. There, under the Banners of Gondor, there were things of the future spoken openly amongst them.

"When Aragorn has been crowned, we shall visit my father. Have you yet to determine what you will make once there?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand tightly.

"I have. I shall craft, with the skill of the Noldor yet another jewel, great in its beauty. It shall be a testament to all that grows and lives…a testament to love itself."

Their heads found rest on the others, enjoying the sight of the rising sun. They enjoyed the residual glow of the moon as they exchanged words of special significance. It was as dawn had arrived that a healer found them.

"The Hobbit stirs!"

/ / / / /

Frodo found himself bathed in warmth and lying in clean linens. Slightly startled, he began to stir. His eyes fluttering wildly, he opened them and saw what he could have sworn to be a vision.

Gandalf, dressed head to foot in white, stood at the foot of the bed, awaiting the Hobbits reaction. The both of them began to laugh, hearts filled to the brim with ease and a sense of merriment unmatched.

From the sound of abundant laughter came the Halflings Merry and Pippin, anxious and excited all at once.

"Frodo!" Merry laughed, as the pair rushed up onto the bed and began to tussle around as children.

The laughter in the room grew greater still, drawing in the rest, who had just caught wind of the news. Gimli raced to the doorway, barely able to contain his excitement. Clapping his hands, he ran fast as he could, to the Hobbits bedside. Wanting to see what the noise was, Legolas strode in calmly, smiling regally, followed by Aragorn, the last to hear.

Barawen had wished to enter last, as this was their moment of joy and had very little at all to do with her. But she did come in, gazing intensely at the Hobbit, who was doing better than before. If the Hobbit was offended by her presence, he did not show it; for their reunion bought still more gaiety.

Her ears perked up as she heard more tiny footsteps. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Samwise, still in his robes. He looked kindly and with purpose upon the dear Hobbit, exchanging unspoken words.

The intensity of her gaze drew Sam's eyes to her. Before he could speak, she held a hand to the cuts on his face, running a finger across them and whispering a few words, sequentially abolishing them forever. She smiled fully, laughing.

"Go to him. And celebrate…for it is an occasion of joy for all of you."

**Authoress Note:**** If it was too short, I apologize. I had to input this. I also had to give them a little good time to themselves. After all, the unknown lies in Mirkwood. I shall say no more…**


	23. 23 Compress

**Chapter Twenty-Three- Compress **

Barawen sat under the White Tree of Minas Tirith and gazed over the land longingly. Her psyche had been opened in a most profound way, lending the voices of Nature a louder voice. The Tree was happy and it was glad to have one of the Quendi within its vicinity to listen to its song. And it was old and slow, resonating with a low hum. And it was beautiful, having no end.

It was in this moment that she began to add her own chorus to the melody. Though she felt it was far from a justice to the voices of Nature. But it was in the Old tongue and the Tree grew abundant with Love and Light at the whispers of the tongue of the Caliquendi.

_Vantan nu Anar a Isil_

_Endoré lira lendanya_

_Cemen lussa ar nainan_

_Valinórenna Árenyar metuvar_

_Laurie Tauri lembe nar_

_Ear calta apa nin_

_A Va Linóre, tulin!_

_Sárawen tule mardenna_

_Namárië… _

Her voice was soft but floated on the wind and it drew in the Elven-prince.

"I heard your song. It is lovely…yet sad. What is it that burdens you so, _Gwend Vell_?"

She smiled and came to her feet, walking forth into his arms. She placed a hand to his face and ran it across the petal soft flesh, taking each inch into memory. Her gaze drifted to the Tree.

"Can you not hear the Song of the Tree? It sings for life has been lent to it and I could hear it so clearly it made me want to sing."

Legolas looked at with suspicion, not willing to accept that as the full reasoning behind the sorrow in the Song that she had sung in the Chorus of the Tree.

"I did hear the Song. It was slow and long but full of joy. Yours was not, even if I cannot understand it all. What do you have in your heart?"

Barawen bent her head low, refusing to let him see her eyes, for then her true intent might be revealed. For when she had written the song, she was homesick. And the words were a call to her parents in Valinor. He would not understand and it was silly to try to explain.

"It is nothing. It was a song I wrote…"

His gaze was gentle and coarse all at once, feeling the dishonesty yet feeling remorse. He kissed her on her faintly rosed cheek, causing her to cease…and she laughed. It was an amazing thing, the lengths he would take to understand her was nothing short of wonderful.

"Do not lie to me. There is no need," he said in a lighter tone.

"You are right. Walk with me. I will tell you what my words meant…"

And they walked around the courtyard together and she told him of her song and how it was composed for her parents. She wanted to sing it on her journey home, for she had missed them greatly as of late. Though she did let him know that he made her feel closer to whole than she had been in many long years of the sun and that her words needn't bother him. For with him by her side, the grief would pass.

She was sure of it.

/ / / / /

"Barawen, if you do not hurry you will make us late!" Legolas called, waiting outside of Barawen's dressing chambers.

"I am almost finished," she said, unlocking the door with a click.

She stepped out wearing a lavender dress, flowing in many layers and bound at the waist with a golden belt. On her head was a small circlet of gold, with a pearl drop on the forehead.

"It is not…too much?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"No. I have worn too much," he sighed, playing with the light cyan tunic that he had been assigned and straightening his own silver headpiece. "The party will be here soon. It will be our duty to escort them."

She nodded, taking his hand.

"Then lead the way."

/ / / / /

The banners of Gondor were caught high in the breeze, and the citizens of both Gondor and Rohan had gathered to bear witness to this most momentous of occasions.

On the steps of the Great Hall, Aragorn stood, dressed in the full armor of the King, cloaked in a dark green robe, Gandalf before him and Gimli at his side. A hush fell over them all as Gandalf held high the crown of the King and laid it upon Aragorn's head gently.

"Now come the days of the King!"

Aragorn smiled broadly at his old friend, as did the wizard smile towards him.

"May they be blessed."

Aragorn stood and faces towards his people, as a roaring cheer issued forth from the congregation.

"This day does not belong to one man, but to all. Let us together rebuild this world that we may share in the days of peace."

The cheers resumed, louder than before, as white flower petals began to fall from the towers, casting an ethereal presence on the peoples of Middle-earth.

Aragorn began to sing a song in the Sindarin tongue, his oath to his people of his good faith.

_Et Eärello_

_Endorenna utúlien_

_Sinome maruvan _

_ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta_

Finishing his words, he began to walk out, to greet those that had gathered. Old friends and new subjects bowed to him, signaling respect and admiration for all that he had helped to accomplish. Looking before him, he saw Legolas at the head of a procession of Elves. Behind the prince was Barawen, who smiled graciously and observed, joyful that she had lived to see these things before her now. The two had grasped each other lightly, smiling and exchanging unspoken words of eternal friendship.

Over Legolas' shoulder, Aragorn saw a sight which was familiar and yet not so. For it was the Lady Arwen, dressed in a light green dress, holding a self-crafted banner of Gondor in hand. She was as lovely as the day when he had first mistaken her for Lúthien.

The two gazed longingly between them, the love that had lingered on in darkness and evil now overflowing and shooting between them like sparks of flame. Aragorn grasped the banner from her, casting it aside, to view her a little better.

The Lady Arwen bowed to the newly crowned King. But he refused the gesture, lifting her head up to meet his gaze. For she had endured in doubt for him, and forsaken everything which she knew and loved to wait for this day.

She smiled, just moments before he caught her lips in a heated kiss. And they shared in tender touches, holding dear to each other as they continued their walk through the crowds, each beaming brightly.

They came into the center, to the four brave Halfling companions; all of whom bowed before the King. But Aragorn stopped them, shocked at their humility. No… it was he who was humbled to be in their presence.

"My friends, you bow to no one."

And with that, he dropped to his knee, prompting the people whom had gathered to do the same. All people lowered that day to pay respect to those who truly went through the heart of pain to bring them all peace, prosperity…and love.

/ / / / /

True to his word, Legolas packed together his things and he, Barawen and Gimli left the city of Minas Tirith, eager to accomplish the designs that they had set out for themselves. Legolas re-donned his traveling outfit, as did Barawen, though she had qualms about doing so. She had spent hundreds of years in a tunic and leggings and her brief time in an actual dress had been an extremely welcome change of pace. Still, she helped Gimli atop the steed Arod, with Legolas and then mounted her own steed. Aragorn had accounted it to her, a gift to make up for her own slain steed.

"Gimli, when we reach Helm's Deep, would you like to search the Glittering Caves?"

Gimli grunted in approval, kicking the sides of the Horse.

"Of course! Don't keep me waiting! Let's get going!"

And with that said, Arod took off, with Barawen following closely behind them.

The wind was sweeter, and it whipped in her face, lending her life and Grace.

"At this rate, we will be there before a week has passed! I do hope that you are fit enough for the journey, Master Gimli!"

From his silence, she could feel that he was slightly offended.

"Oh, come on! I only jest!" she shouted merrily. "I know that this journey shall be no contest to the strength of a Dwarf!"

/ / / / /

Deep within the Halls of Thranduil, the Elven-king, there was merriment. All of the Elves had felt Sauron's defeat most profoundly, as the Shadow was lifted from the forests and peace was lifted from Eryn Lasgalen. In Thranduil's Halls, there was cause for much celebration,, for he knew that his son would approach soon.

At the lifting of the Shadow, Thranduil sent for the Master Song-writer, the Noblewoman of Thranduil's court.

"_I heard the screams nearer here!" cried a scout._

_The two Elves quickened to the River and there, in the grass, was an infant, with her dead mothers arms wrapped around her. The Orc were about to feast on the Flesh of the Child, before three arrows apiece ran them through._

_But it was too late for the parents. They had both perished, leaving their daughter behind. This was the beginning of a new life, within the Halls of Thranduil, for the Joy of Water…seeds sown in tragedy._

"Nenlas," Thranduil called out to the young Elf.

An elleth of the Sindar came forward, lurking somewhat in the shadows, her dark purple dress blending into the Cavern walls.

"Would you prepare a Song for his return?"

She smiled, bowing towards her Lord, her cherry red lips wrapping into a sneer.

"I shall begin right away."

**Authoress Chat:**** Thanks for the LOVE!!! It's appreciated. Make sure to review this chappie. I dare you to guess who the scouts were. I also dare you guess what happens next. I bet you won't see it. REVIEW!!!!**


	24. 24 God's Gunna Cut You Down

**A/N: I am SOO sorry!!! I was struggling to write this. But I got the point across in a beautiful way and I hope you enjoy it. Oh, yeah…reading the Quenta Silmarilion helped too.**

**Chapter Twenty-Four- God's Gunna Cut You Down**

It took them exactly a fortnight to reach the Glittering Caves. Barawen had left them at half-ways and told them that they could meet her at the time when they had finished their journey. She would ride to Helm's Deep and pay her tribute to Haldir and her subordinates. She had loved and wished nothing but the best for all the all of ellyn but that was not what the Valar had in mind for them. The Orc's had stolen them from her. But Legolas had saved her from them and herself. And for this, she was supremely grateful.

On her back was the royal blue cloak that had been woven for her. And for a few days, she traveled the Deep, mourning the sheer amount of death that was surrounded her. But there was also happiness, knowing that he had peace and that his memory was strong here and had left its mark in Arda, albeit by way of blood.

_Haldir and Barawen resigned together after a dutiful day on the job. She had traveled with the Warden, preparing herself for command presence over a battalion of her own. In the brief moment of leisure, they had a discussion of light heart._

"_I have to ask…you and Gladhor? What is there between you?"_

_She looked at him and laughed._

"_That is humorous. He is simply my lieutenant. He has always been to the right of my hand. He is a good friend."_

_Haldir nearly had a fit, laughing so hard she could see tears in her eyes._

"_The more you appear not to want a thing, the more obvious you make yourself."_

_To this, she cocked an eyebrow and proceeded to stare him down. But he was unshaken and this made her smile deeply within. Whereas her gazes could usually silence the most annoying of ellon, Haldir remained unaffected. She adored his iron will…and abhorred his brutal honesty and insight._

"_My affection for him is drawn at the line of friendship. I do not love my underlings."_

_It was his turn to look at her like a child caught in the wrong._

"_You will find that in the profession of Guardian, time may be short. You will not always receive a second chance to become close with another. Do not waste precious time."_

She was knelt near the place of demise and had with her a torch and lit it in remembrance, praying to Nienna for solace and to Mandos, that Haldir's spirit would remain strong and close to her until they met once more.

It was three days that she grieved and tried to make things right within the Deep before Legolas and Gimli returned. Nut before them she swore to Haldir that she would not wait anymore.

She laid down upon the stains of blood, her cloak and the bow of the Galadhrim, thus relinquishing the memory of the Golden Wood for ever. She felt no further use for it; she thought only of making her time in the forests of Mirkwood as beautiful as possible.

And so she left that scene of devastation and walked off with her love and close friend and listened to their tales of the Caves and attempted to recall the visage of jewels deep in the Earth.

"It was beautiful, lass! The walls gleamed like tiny sparks of flame and there were colors to behold that I had not seen in any Dwarven city!"

And she smiled and laughed.

"Yes. I suppose that is very amazing. There were great and terrible things of beauty hidden in the Earth untouched and very few were found by Elven-folk. To see these things in undimmed glory must have been a sight!"

And when she spoke of this, her voice was deep and filled with a certain somberness that lay deep within the hearts of the fierce Noldor. And Legolas could feel that it was mostly from the desire to leave the battlefield and be done at last with the gore of it all.

"I have no better words to describe it. It was a marvel to behold!" Legolas said with great mirth.

A nudge in her heart urged her to let the feeling pass; indeed, it would seem the princes doing, in trying to keep her spirits high. So Barawen resigned herself to the comfort and took his hand and they walked away to the Stalls and let go of their Steeds, freeing them to the Land of Rohan. And the sun began to set as they continued their treed on foot.

/ / / / /

Nenlas plucked away at the strings of the harp in the Great Hall. Her fingers were nimble, skilled and firm with each pluck of the instrument. For her gift was music and the songs of her people spilled out into Thranduil's Halls and they were as another chord to the Music of Ainur. Her lips were curled into a smile that struck of some hidden thing, unknown to any Elf that might like to decipher her.

Still, she played, steadily faster, pressing the silver strings to a tire and as the Music ended, it still echoed in the cavern. And Thranduil was moved by his servant and adopted child. He was still sad, for it was her voice that held all the sadness of the Passing of her Kin…and the grief left her to him, for which he did not regret but was also not happy in, causing a concern.

"Alas, Nenlas, your songs get lovelier with each passing day," he laughed.

His voice was deep and yet held youth within it and he was happy; for though his son was not in his arms, he could finally see him from afar. And in his joy, Nenlas found joy as well.

"Thank you, my Lord. I am glad that you enjoyed it. I would wont that Legolas should enjoy it as well. For the seasons have gone a cycle since we met and I would wish that my songs should bring him great happiness. "

Of this, there was no more said, and they gave the task to patience and would have to wait to unite with their kin. But there was one thing that Thranduil had said to her, in thought.

"There at Fangorn, I have seen an elleth with him, as also a Dwarf. He surely has kept himself occupied!"

Upon hearing of Barawen, Nenlas' heart grew full of anger and she, for a fraction of a second, held scorn on her face…but Thranduil did not see it. He also did not see the claws of hate that had begun to seethe within her mind.

/ / / / /

Barawen went forth with her friends and loved-ones to the forests of Fangorn and found herself amused in large, for the roles had been reversed. Whereas Legolas had been struck silent by the beauty of the Glittering Caves (for once), Gimli was now unspoken. Though his silence may not have risen from awe, it was still quiet. And Barawen had rarely seen either of them summarily silenced.

"You would think that the forest had captured your words. Where did they go, I wonder?" she laughed, clapping her hands together.

Her jesting bought them some moments of unified laughter.

"Well, in that case…" Gimli was still lost for words. "If you want to poke fun, I suppose you can defeat the Elf by your lonesome!"

Her eyes became wide.

"That is true…I completely forgot that we had a score to settle. If we go headlong towards one another in any weapons fight, I will beat you," she directed towards Legolas, smiling.

And thus she swore to fight him ever until he was a beaten. And in her declaration, her found more things to love about her.


	25. 25 Life for Rent

**Chapter Twenty-Five-Life for Rent**

It was at the end of another fortnight spent in good tidings and company that Barawen and Legolas parted ways with the Dwarf Gimli and left for Mirkwood to set things right in many areas. Barawen, in respect for the Elven-king, resumed wear of a gown. It was the same flowing blue dress that she had donned within the walls of Minas Tirith. And they had passed over the River together, to the Shores on the other side.

The paddle was long and on the way, she taught Legolas the Song that she had sung in Gondor. And it joined with the Song of the Water and the waters of Ulmo swelled at the merging of two voices that were so at sync with their others that it would have stalled the fish, if they could hear it.

Legolas' voice was that of youth and an undimmed love of the Earth and Forest. It sounded like wind blowing in a rain storm and water falling over the leaves. Whereas Barawen had a voice of Age. It was soft enough, but that of a silvery flute and it spoke of both the Darkness and Light of Arda.

When the Sky and Earth united in Song, they were joyous. And they enjoyed sailing in the warm air of night and, upon coming to the shores, set up a camp. There they had their fill of unleavened bread and sweet berries and took to each other's arms.

"Barawen, you are quiet? Is all right?" Legolas asked, gripping her closer. She shook her head, grasping his golden hair lightly and tugging lightly.

"I am contemplating your _demise_," she smirked, allowing deviousness to overtake her delicate features.

To this, he laughed. It was for the most part because he had never had his hair tugged and for the lesser because she was an obviously bad liar.

"I do not need the bond between us to know that you lie. What has gone wrong in our time of rest?"

Barawen sighed and gave into the fact that she had been beaten in this.

"I have qualms about meeting the Elven-king." And she had tears in her eyes. "Deep in my heart, I have felt some dread in meeting your father. For I am of a family that slew Teleri. And I have submitted myself to service and attempted to atone the deeds of my father but I fear that he will see it in my eyes that I am Noldor…he will send me away. For that, I should fade to Aman in darkness or die. I have I have dwelt with the Kin of the lost Lord of the Noldor for my fear to live elsewhere. If I am forsaken here, my only comfort will be in the Arms of Valinor."

He listened, horrified at the ugly truth if her words. But still, he held her ever closer.

"I do not know what you have heard, but my father holds no grudge against you. Great is his wisdom and he will know the stain of Teleri blood, if it exists. But in you, I see Light. And if it is expelled unjustly, then my light shall be quenched from these lands and we will sail westward together. I swear it."

/ / / / /

Thranduil had donned his finest robe, a deep moss green with gold in the fabric, woven into shapes of holly and berries and growing things. And upon his head was wreath of the greenest holly and within it were red flowers. And he was merry.

And Nenlas had made herself appropriate in a gown of maroon and violet, also woven in gold and upon her head was a circlet of gold with a singular purple gem set in it. And she was at the ready, clutching deftly the silver harp in the Hall as the feast was prepared for the coming of the Son of the King and his guest.

Legolas did come among them as Dawn and he held Barawen's hand as though bound by a magic of sorts. But rather their strides together were in tune with the other. And they bowed to the Lord of Mirkwood and were humbled and elevated at once.

"Greetings, my Lord," Legolas said, still lowered.

But Thranduil refused his sign of devotion, instead taking his son in his arms and he was not at all quick to let go. Barawen was witness to the Eleven-king's love for his offspring and the bitter tears that he wept at his safe arrival.

"Oh, my son. You have returned to me! I have awaited you in doubt four seasons time! Come to me and let us feast, as we did in the past!"

It was then that Nenlas abandoned the harp and made herself known to them. And Barawen was taken firmly by jealousy. For Nenlas planted many kisses on his cheeks and was clung to him like stubborn lint…or a stain. Her hair was as flowing waves of linen, white with wheat drawn lightly through it. And her eyes were a grey akin to smoke and her face was oval and rosy with lips of cherry.

Barawen sought to pry her off and in her rose anger quickly and she almost swore in the Old tongue to her. But she was too frightful of upsetting the Lord of the Sindar. So she quite literally bit down on her tongue, as Legolas struggled to pry her off.

"I appreciate the gesture, Nenlas. But you are far too excited. Please, calm yourself. I've someone for you to meet."

Nenlas' eyes traveled to the other elleth and though her face showed no malice, in her eyes was hate and something else…and it intimidated Barawen, though she would not show it. Nenlas extended her alabaster hand and took the hand of the Calaquendi and kissed it.

"Hello, sister of… _where_ do you hail? I do not recognize your features."

And in this, she was triumphant over her Elder and unnerves her, making her whimper under her cruelty. For she knew where her color was from and in her eyes, Barawen saw doom.

"I hail from Lothlórien. And I am of the peoples of Fingolfin."

Like a torch lit in a storm, her courage was stolen by the evil of cruelty and devises meant to embarrass her. But what had she done to require such cruelty? Barawen was going to find out.

"What motivates you to ask?" she asked, smiling.

Nenlas, perhaps thinking to be caught in her games, smiled as well, masking shame with kindness.

"I was just curious. As a Kin of sorts to Legolas, I should like to know the Elves whom he is associated. Is that so wrong?"

But Barawen was not deceived, not any less offended. And she let her anger be known, though was just as insulting and sleigh in words.

"Well, of course then. Let us together partake in the joys of the joining of our peoples for common cause. For it is a happy day in the annals of history!"

And Legolas, feeling heat in his chest and red hot blood in his veins, rebuked his family's Ward. Though it was in a kindly manner, as to save face for her.

"Yes, she us a Lady of Noble heritage. She has great things done in her life time. And her character is of pureness. She healed the Ring-bearer."

In this, Thranduil found enough interest to excuse her heritage; for he was curious about her ability. Wind had reached of a record time of healing.

"And how is that?" And to hear his voice, it was cold but for a glimmer of Hope.

"It is the gift of Estë the Gentle, given to me in Aman by my mother, Mereneth the Vanya."

And in this, Thranduil had another view of her altogether. The Vanyar were a race long held in mystery, for their numbers were few and the sight held in memory was even fewer.

"Then let us make merry under these stars tonight! For we shall dance from this dawn to the next! And may our lineage matter not, for all in attendance shall celebrate the return of my son to me!"

**A/N: I was so busy trying to make the updates that I totally forwent after-thoughts. As for Chapter Twenty Three, I was a LOT nicer to Arwen than I wanted to be. I had to put aside my personal feeling s and give her the proper respect. Even though she sat home any embroidered for a year. Useless wench! As for the kissing, I literally held it in until the LAST second. It was like, I can't put this off. If they didn't kiss in Minas Tirith, they never would have gotten together. I thought to make them kiss after the Battle at Pelennor and in the Healing Houses of Gondor. But it didn't work. **

**In reference to these last two chapters, please don't be afraid to make your feelings about Nenlas known. I have in mind to use her for things in the future. And also, I recreated Thranduil's personality because everyone thinks he's this mega hard-ass. I think that he is tender to those who have his love. You can't judge him by the Hobbit. **

**P.S: That description I made of him, I thought THRANDUIL SANTA! In fact, if you review, I'll give you a personal Holiday Thranduil, complete with sleigh. :)**


	26. 26 I Kissed A Girl

**Chapter Twenty-Six-I Kissed A Girl**

Thranduil took up a large portion of his court and some of his subjects to an open ground. The land had been somehow enriched in the aftermath of the Shadow, with blossoms leaping up in the warm humid air and the grass was thick and plenty. Legolas had changed his attire to match his father. His tunic was emerald green, bright and crisp, while his leggings were a deeper green. And the entire company was barefooted. Though it was not the norm for her, she cast away her slippers and reunited with nature in the way of Silvan folk.

In the clearing was a great show of the wealth of Thranduil, with great chairs made of marble with silver encrusted in them and blankets of rich silk strewn on the grass. There was a fire pit, with a perfect roast going, golden-brown and juicy. And within record time, there were jugs of wine going around and Elves becoming loud and merry. And in this, Barawen was very happy.

'The atmosphere here is pure…joy. I have experienced beauty in Lothlórien and even Gondolin…but this is something refreshing. I shall enjoy this land!'

And she grabbed Legolas by the waist and pulled him into an energetic dance, a dance in which she led him. The two of them met eyes, with her giving him a triumphant look and he returned one of both surprise and determination.

'So, she thinks that she will have dominion over me in this matter. I have never been led and I will not begin now!'

Smiling at her and lowering her defenses, he yanked softly a small portion of her hair, startling her and allowing him to take up his rightful lead.

"Wha-"

"That was for earlier," he spoke over her. "You will not try to lead me again."

His tone was playfully authoritative but still it sparked a challenge. To this, she felt a fire stirred in her. Like sparks in a smithy, their spirits were hot and demanded another epic showdown.

And this began an awkward dance, with one trying to lead the other and actually not going anywhere outside of a rigid circle. She smiled as did he, exchanging tiny pulls on each other's follicles to pull the other of course momentarily. It was during all of this that Legolas' hands began to warm to an almost uncomfortable temperature. Barawen's eyebrows raised in shock.

"What do you think you are doing, Thranduilion?! Have you any idea what damage you may do to me as of now?" she whispered in his ear.

And the prince responded, "I _do_ have an idea. And if you do not stop trying to lead me, I will tickle you with my strength until…well, something bad will happen."

From across the clearing, Thranduil spied on his son and his companion, friend of Estë. The sight before him was unusual, causing him to cock his head to the side. They were doing the dance of an Elf with three feet and tugging each other's hair in-between less than graceful moves. Either they were both mad, or they were in love. The latter was unforeseeable, seeing as Legolas had never shown another elleth the time of day. Extremely intrigued, Thranduil walked up to them deftly and placed his arm out in front of them.

They both curtsied in respect, before Thranduil made his intentions known.

"It is a shame that after all these years my son still does not know how to dance. Come with me and enjoy a real dance."

Smiling, she let go of her grip on a few strands of Legolas' hair and gave herself over to the Woodland King for a dance. His movement was swift, sweeping her up and making her fall into him slightly. The King was odd but he was also kind. He turned out to be a truly good dancer and his love of the art showed in his pace. He was fervent and expected her to be as well. So she danced until she was tired.

In this time, Legolas communed with some of his scout friends and kept an open ear for his father, to make sure they were getting along.

"Well, I have to ask…" Thranduil began. "How is it that you came to be so _well acquainted_ with my son? It has been a long time since he has let down his guard so far."

She was blushing when she looked at her host.

"I would not know. But if it is true, then I account myself lucky. You have a wonderful son."

Thranduil spun her around before pulling her back to him. It was hard not to feel like his attention was totally on her. His personal magnetism was infectious. No wonder he was so beloved by his subjects. He was a strange sort of ellon, indeed.

"Is that so? So, have you two decided on a date for betrothal?"

Barawen nearly choked on her own spit, stopping firmly in her tracks.

"Wait…what? We have just decided to court. That is all," she said defensively.

But Thranduil, though younger, was in fact the wiser.

"That will not do," he said in a tone hinting at whimsy, as he resumed his dance with her. "I have been trying to get him to settle with an elleth for nearly a millennia. But this is the closest he has come. You two are very close to one another, I can tell. You really ought to take advantage of peace. I should not fail to mention that there are others as well. This matter has become a race and I should only wish that you make my son happy."

"Why I? I had thought that you would not be satisfied to have your son bonded with one of the Noldor. ..I may have misjudged you," she admitted in a hushed voice.

"Were it that you had slain my kin, then I may have turned you away. But I can hear quite a distance. The whole of Northern Mirkwood is mine. The minute you crossed my river, I heard you and I pray to the Valar that I never become so hot in temperament to punish an Elf for the actions of her father. Loyalty is what I seek from you; No more and no less."

She smiled and fully gave herself to him in a free, wild dance, which pleased him very much.

/ / / / /

Nenlas had joined her 'brother' by now and given the task of musician to another. In her hands was a chalice of wine and she was talking to him.

"How are you, Legolas? Was it fun to be away from home for so long? I wager that you saw all sorts of thing-"

But Legolas was not amused. He calmly sent away the scouts whom he had associated with and then gave his full, undivided attention to her.

"How dare you show your face to me for what you have done to Barawen? I do not know why I bother protecting you any longer."

To this, her shoulders dropped, as well as her face.

"What is that? You protect me from what? I only wish the best for you. I apologize if I was not sensitive enough. It is only her fault; she should know better, as a Noldo, than to encroach on the lands of the Silvan people."

"Keep your apologies. They are meaningless, hollow things."

And Legolas could not keep a solid lid on his emotions any longer. He had entirely forgotten about her dreaded presence in his father's lands. Ever since he and his father had been given the task of raising the orphaned Elf, she had leaned on him. But in her was also terror. She was without emotions, seeking dominion over her companions. And at first, Legolas had pity for her but now…her cruelty was too great. And he would no longer stand for it. Turning from her to walk away, he spoke.

"If you do _anything_ to separate us, _you_ will be the true Kin-slayer."

/ / / / /

Barawen finished dancing with Thranduil and ran to Legolas. Her spirit was as free as it had been in the city of Tirion, in her youth. And she grasped his taut form and kissed his cheek.

"What is this face, whilst amongst such festivity? Would you like a drink? Or, perhaps to eat some roast?"

Sighing, he kissed her back. But his heart had been taken by some dark, lingering thing. Ignoring this, she smiled.

"No. I require only your presence. Come and meet some of my friends."

This task filled her with an emotion that trumped the shadow in his heart and turned his mood towards hers. Grasping her hand, he walked over to his scouting friends.

"Barawen, this is Hirvegil and Galadon," Legolas said grinning.

And she lowered her head to them, in respect, the Silvan Elves doing the same. Hirvegil was obviously the elder Elf of the two, his body slightly more erect. His eyes were bright, blazing blue, and his hair a rich, warm brown. His countenance was laden with strength as was Galadon's. Galadon was slightly shorter, and smaller but no less fierce in demeanor. His hair was a thick sheet of gold and he had eyes of copper. Both were clothed in white and grey and were about half the way too drunk.

"It is about time," Hirvegil said in a laughing voice. "You have been…_lonely_…no, Legolas?"

Legolas shot his friend a look that made him look away. And so Hirvegil turned his attention to Galadon.

"My, our friend has become angry. You had better keep watch your tongue…Galad-on."

Barawen giggled, covering her mouth with her hands.

'They are definitely too drunk for their own well-being. They will be sorry come dawn,' she thought.

"Oh, yes…have you heard the good news?" Galadon said to Legolas. "King Thranduil come to an agreement with Celeborn of Lórien. The forests of Lórien and Mirkwood have become as one, under the rulership of two Lords. Aren't you from Lórien, Barawen?" he asked.

She nodded, face full of excitement.

"Yes. I must make my way there again. There are some things there that I may find familiar. This age will be great indeed if you have joined the Lord Celeborn."

"Yes. Well…shall we play a game?" Galadon asked of his three friends.

"What game did you have in mind?" Legolas asked, voice teeming with curiosity.

"Well…"

/ / / / /

Barawen, Legolas, Galadon and Hirvegil were laid out on a blanket in the field, in a circle around a jug of wine. They were all as drunk as an Orc and sprawled out, incapacitated. Her prior drinking game had absolutely nothing on this one. Wine that had been fermenting for centuries was running its course through their veins, albeit quicker in Legolas and Barawen's bodies. She was one of the Eldar, as was he, so they were faring better than their Silvan company, who were absolutely beyond the acceptable point of drunkenness. Thranduil looked from beyond the field at the people his son chose to associate with. He had to sigh.

'He will be forever youthful. For that I am both thankful and frightened.'

**Authoress Note: Yay! I made friends for the Prince. That being said, review, because Galadon and Hirvegil will love you forever. Well…maybe not Hirvegil. That is all I will say. REVIEW!!!**


	27. 27 Loney Day

**Chapter Twenty-Seven- Lonely Day**

About a week later, Legolas had greeted anyone that mattered. This left them time to rebuild other areas of their lives and know each other in many areas. She had requested of the King to make use of his smithy and began work on her masterpiece. Of all the things she enjoyed, metal work was at the top of that list. Her father had crafted a jewel for her mother when they met in Valinor. She could so clearly recall it image and began to work with the memory guiding her hand. She spent three days with Legolas as company and cut down the stone in her possession until it resembled a crystallized flower.

She bound it in loops of silver and mithril, using the remnants of the strings that the jewel had once hung on. The loops were as vines and snaked delicately around the neckline. When it was finished, she wrapped it in cloth and tied it within a thick ribbon.

She went with the jewel into her room and sang of the beauty of Aman and prayed for blessings for Gladhor. And Legolas joined her, kneeling in the chamber with his beloved and listening. She had just completed something pivotal and she was both sad and glad in it. But afterwards, they were free to leave the Halls and create more things.

In the free time, Nenlas had become consumed by the need for vengeance. Who did he think he was? She may not be as high an Elf as Legolas or Barawen but she was no less great!

'What gives her the right to deny me his love? It is all her fault. And I hate her for it. She will be ruined!'

But her scheming was interrupted when Hirvegil and Galadon came to visit. They came first to her, plucking away at the harp and Galadon asked where they could find Legolas to catch up further with him. She stopped her plucking mid-song.

"He is with the Lady Barawen. I shall fetch him."

And she got up, not giving a second thought to her company. She licked her lips in anticipation. This was going to be fun. As she walked away, Galadon nudged Hirvegil and began to jeer him.

"You are going to be sorry if you don't tell her how you feel," Galadon said.

Hirvegil was shaken from his dead stare and came back to his senses.

"What? What do you mean?"

His friends feigned innocence was a dead giveaway…not that he could hide his intentions from his life-long friend. Ever since they found Nenlas in the woods, her mother's dead arms clinging so tightly to her they had to be cut, he had held her in the highest of affections. The King searched for her family but found that only her parents had remained after the Second Age, making her an orphan. By this time, she was flourishing and very beautiful. Thranduil had become enamored of her voice and kept her at his side to sing for him…and Hirvegil fell in love with her voice, also. Though she saw seven hundred years his junior, he was enrapt whenever she spoke. And there was no magic in Arda or beyond that could hide it.

"She won't know if you like her until you voice it. She is just that type of elleth."

Hirvegil looked at him in confusion.

"From _what_ experience would you know this?"

/ / / / /

Nenlas sauntered towards Barawen's chambers and made herself. She was could hear them talking and could not stand the mounting anticipation. When she got to the quarters, she rapped lightly against the door frame.

"I beg your pardon for the intrusion, but we have company."

Barawen and Legolas were startled out of each other's arms at the sound of her voice. Barawen was anxious at her arrival, for fear of aggravating an already delicate situation between family members. Legolas felt her anxiety, though it was for the look in her eyes. He knew that look anywhere; she wanted to drive a wedge between them. It was crystal clear. He was at odds with himself. He longed to give her the benefit of doubt but his heart was cautioning him against it. It was in her presence that Barawen felt the Shadow in his heart. But before she could get the words out of her mouth, Legolas was talking to his sister.

"Who is it that requires my presence, Nenlas?"

She smiled and cast a look at Barawen.

"It is the Masters Hirvegil and Galadon. They wish your attendance for a gathering."

Barawen was excited at the hearing of it. She was so eager to become close to those close to her love. Plus she was attempting to acclimate to the way of Wood-Elves. It would be a perfect opportunity to do both, especially recalling how nice they were to her before.

"That sounds wonderful! I wonder if I-"

"It is only for close friends. I am so sorry," Nenlas said, as if she could read minds.

For a brief moment there was staunch silence in the room as everyone put on their best masks. Everyone seemed very happy but the mood was deeper than smog. Barawen wanted so badly to bite back but she held herself in calmness. If she were to punch Nenlas as she wanted to, it would assuredly not smooth over well. So she responded simply.

"Of course. It is just as well. I could stay behind. I still have crafts to attend to," she said, lying through her teeth.

"That is absurd. She is just as welcome in the dwellings of my friends as I. She shall come; I would not suffer her to the humiliation of being left at home," Legolas said to Nenlas. The tone was cheerful but his look was fierce, as he grabbed Barawen's hand and led her away.

Nenlas looked at them as they rushed away from her poison. But she had already done what she had intended. The seeds of doubt had been planted in Barawen's mind.

'Run all you wish…I have already caught you within my maw. Anyone who opposes my will shall be torn apart, hroa from fëa. Enjoy yourself, Barawen of the Noldor…'

/ / / / /

Legolas' body was stiff as he walked with Barawen to meet his friends. But this did not satisfy his Lady. All of the joy had been sucked out of the room like a vacuum. This couldn't continue. Barawen stopped dead in her tracks, refusing to move another muscle. She looked on him, nearly radiating anger.

"What is amiss? And do not lie to me," she said.

Legolas sighed and turned around, placing his hand on his hip.

"Though I am sarcastic, I am not a liar. But you will have to be more specific-"

His temper was hot, as was hers. They would learn this quickly as their voices escalated.

"Who is she that she hates me? Have I offended her or is she insane? I begin to think the latter is correct!"

He walked to her and captured her in a hug, where he rested his head on her shoulder and sighed once more.

"She was found by Hirvegil and Galadon on a scouting mission. She was orphaned within her first year. I do not excuse her behavior in any case. But she is dear to my father and is our ward. I will do what I can and I hate that she hurts you." He separated to look into her eyes. "But she is not me, Barawen. Do not let her doubts reflect on us."

Barawen smiled and looked backwards.

"I will leave her to her own devices…for now. I can only hope that my patience is superior to her whip. In any case, we should not keep our hosts waiting."

He smiled back at her.

"No, we should not."

**Authoress Chat:**** I am freaking sorry! It took longer than I expected. I started writing another story last night. And, to be honest, writers block is raping me HARD. I am sorry, again. I hope the next chapter doesn't take as long to churn out. Keep me elevated! MUCH LOVE!!!**


	28. 28 Thriller

**Chapter Twenty-Eight- Thriller**

The group gathered together at the brinks of the Enchanted River and there on the shores was a great boat. On top of being great warriors, they had also found time for beauty. Together with Legolas, they had crafted the boat that lay in waiting to draw them to the other side.

It was lovely, made of the whitest wood to be fund and crafted in the likeness of the ships that had dwelt in Alaquondë. On either end of the boat, there were images of the swans that had led their way all those ages ago. And together they paddled all four oars in perfect unison whilst taking in that day, which seemed to be as perfect and wholesome.

"There is much excitement between us long sundered kin," Galadon laughed. "The first of the new flets have been built in the trees. They are great and wondrous, even to us who have dwelt there in older days."

"You undermine your _own_ works," Barawen said, leaning back into a soft stroke. "Your art is of its own category. I am not certain that I have ever seen a ship so closely resemble those in the harbor…" she paused. "I digress."

Sensing a slight discomfort tingeing the air, Hirvegil began what he accomplished best; torturing his comrades.

"She is right, Galadon. It really isn't important whose craftsmanship outclasses the others. What does matter is becoming as a whole people. How are you this morning, Barawen?" he asked, looking briefly over his shoulder.

She smiled and made her stroke.

"It is fair. And what of your morn? Or was that a question meant to lead elsewhere?"

"Ah, we have a sharp contender, Hirvegil. I would not push your humor too far. It may not turn out the way you wish," Galadon warned as light-heartedly as possible.

Hirvegil cleared his throat, taking the well-intended hint and he made himself clear.

"I suppose I meant to ask how you are faring with our brother in arms."

The tone was hinting of mockery, bringing a peculiar look to Legolas' fair face.

"Is it really so odd that I have shown favor towards a maiden?" Legolas asked, exchanging brotherly banter.

"No, no. That's not it," Galadon intervened, stopping Hirvegil from making a bigger deal than need be. "We are simply curious. She is of distant peoples. She is also one of the Calaquendi. We are merely curious in her. Is that so wrong?"

To this, Barawen had to laugh. They really were trying, after all.

"I am aware that he meant no harm. I was not greeted by all in such an open way. Lay the blame solely on anxiety. I have no qualms with answering any question you might pose; I have no secrets."

Legolas smiled, staring at her from across the boat. She was glowing and had happiness in her face for an extended period of time. There was something that told him that she spoke no lie. She was absolutely open at this time and no guilt stained her cheeks. That was the greatest gift he could ever have given her.

"_Freedom…I am free from the slow grind of time for a while. This is what I hold sacred. And your presence is the source. I love you, Legolas._"

Galadon cast Hirvegil a look that begged him to be as gentle as possible.

"You have dwelt on Lórien before. I meet some of the other archers in the last few weeks. They seem to have…fond…memories of you."

Then there was laughter.

"Oh? You have heard of those days. There are oaths taken, as O am sure you are aware. The road that leads to their fulfillment is often arduous."

"So, you are admittedly arduous. I thank you for the warning," Hirvegil snickered.

Barawen's eyes became fixated on his back as she began to rue her choice of words. He was irritatingly clever and would most likely be that way until she and Legolas had married. Galadon, who was obviously more level-headed, shook his head in silence.

"You would have to ask Legolas," she said, looking over at him. "He is probably the best judge of that."

"Actually, our sources said that they knew you quite a long time. Master Rumil and Master Orophin had planned on us gathering this afternoon. We knew that Legolas would probably like to come along. And it was assumed that you would be with him. What was the message that they wanted to pass along?" Galadon asked of his companion.

"Ah, yes; it is about time."

/ / / / /

Nenlas sat on the floor near Thranduil's throne, singing without words. He had a pleasant book in his hands and a hand rested on her head. The smile that graced him was broad as he enjoyed both her company and entertainment. She had dressed in a blood red dress and her feet were naked, except for shimmering silver bangles on her ankles. The King was in a deep grey robe and wore a garland of flowers and rusted leaves.

"Have you run out of words to sing?" Thranduil asked teasingly.

She simply shook her head.

"No. I am rather thinking of a tune as I go along. Besides, there is nothing for me to sing of. This land grows bleak when my brother becomes too busy for me. He is the only ellon I can depend on."

Thranduil shut the book that he was reading with a resounding snap.

"He is the only one that you trust? How long is it that you have felt this way?" he asked with fatherly concern.

Nenlas smiled as a small laugh fled her lips.

"I suppose not. I trust you, _Adar_. I just miss him. He has barely spent a single moment with me since his return. He barely ever did before."

She got up and kissed him on the cheek before walking away without another word, smiling inwardly. Her game was going to end in checkmate. No room was allowed for failure. If Legolas would not love her willingly, he would do it by force. Denial was unacceptable.

Going into her guest of honor's room, she searched for something to extend the games playing time. She found it in the form of a necklace. Her smile grew exponentially to her ideas.

/ / / / /

The boat came to rest on the other side of the River and Barawen helped to drag it up the bank so that it was not lost to the current. She dusted off her dress and pulled up the hem slightly so that it wouldn't linger in the water. But once off of the shores, she walked gingerly and without much care to the elements or less fortunate things.

"I wonder how they will react to seeing you so changed. It has been a measure of time since they have seen you," Legolas whispered to her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him closer.

"They won't say much to me in that way. You ought to worry about yourself. Just as your friends have questioned me, they are _sure_ to question you."

He let Hirvegil and Galadon walk up a little bit further from them and came behind her, catching her in a bear hug. His hands were hot and his breath was cool on her sensitive ears.

"I would advise that you tread lightly as well. I would not wish that you are embarrassed in front of our friends. You still have yet to make good on your threat to defeat me. I begin to think that you aren't able."

Her heart was beating so hard in his embrace that he could hear it skip a beat. She grasped his arms and turned her head slightly to the side so she could kiss his cheek. Her goal became clear, as he found his grip loosened and allowed her to turn around. Now facing him, she put her mouth up to his ear as well.

"And to that I held true. I will have my vengeance upon you. Tonight…we will do battle tonight. Be ready _Thranduilion_."

From the background came the sound of an ellon clearing his throat.

"Come. We cannot tarry. They wait in the flets for us. You would like to see them, right?" Galadon asked.

Both of them glowed hotly in embarrassment and slowly let go of each other to walk somewhat side by side. They both mouthed words of challenge to one another. The walk did not take long. As the sun reached its highest point in the sky, they saw the newly built homes that had been carved delicately around the trees. It was like a greener version of her home and it was beautiful. Hirvegil and Galadon lead them up to a particularly low abode with a distinctly floral theme. There were blue flowers lining the wood of the steps and the windows. And from the foremost window, she saw Rumil reclined comfortably.

"Rumil!" she shouted.

The look on his face went quickly from ease to joy as she raced up the stairs into his awaiting arms. She hugged him tightly, though not as she had at the pinnacle of her strength. It went noticed but Rumil didn't feel like getting punched today so he put it out of mind. Excitedly, he began to prattle like a little girl.

"How are you?! Oh, Barawen, we have missed you!"

She kissed him on his cheek and waved Legolas and his friends up.

"Hurry up!" she shouted, racing indoors to plop down inside the kitchen area.

When everyone had gathered, they finally were able to discuss some of the things that had gone on since they had last seen each other. Apparently, since Haldir's death, Orophin had taken up his position as the head of the Northern woods, taking Rumil to be his right-hand Elf. Word had reached them of her abandonment of the Western March and Rumil, after a time, had taken up her post and would not relinquish it until the Towers of Dol Guldur had been cast down. They had chosen to stay behind when Galadriel left as they refused to part without seeing her again. They then followed their Lord to the forest which they had all settled in. Barawen smiled to hear of it.

"I am glad to hear of your success, Rumil. I know how you ached to be a Warden. I think that Orophin made the right choice."

"I knew that you would want him to take your place. Besides, you always were closer to him," Orophin spoke.

"I know that you're just being polite. You never used to allow for any sloth on my part and were ever fond of letting me know just how far I had left to go. But I will take what I can get, so thank you," he replied.

Legolas gave her a sly look that she was aware of. She gave him a questioning one in return. A smirk slid across his lips as he joined in the joke.

"Surely she must have been telling the truth. After all, she told me numerous times in a span of mere hours how futile and powerless I was. Just take it as a sign that she likes you as well."

"Legolas, I am going to beat you once we arrive home. Rest assured of that, little ellon," she said, seething but refusing to let it translate in her face. "Your attitude will be adjusted later."

Then an awkward silence went over them all.

"Odd…" Hirvegil interjected silently.

/ / / / /

It was later that evening, when the sun had set, that Hirvegil and Galadon helped their companions across the river and left back their own way to do whatever they were contented with. The second they were out of any sort of seeing range, the epic showdown commenced.

Barawen grabbed the lower part of her dress up around her knees and tied it tightly at the side, so as not to trip over herself at any point. She dove across the field with Legolas fast on her heels and managed to leap out of his grasp and half the way onto a branch, which she plucked free of two twigs of moderate length and girth. It was as she did this that he grasped an ankle and pulled her down onto her knew and tried to drag her to her feet. But she was just as quick and as soon as she had touched the ground, she swept her foot to the side and knocked him off balance a bit. When he regained his footing, he was rewarded with the soft snap of a twig against his neck. Letting go, she tossed him his tool and slowly backed away, wiping the grass from her dress.

Barawen laughed.

"What's the matter, Thranduilion? I remember your mouth being more open. Don't tell me…you are scared to lose?" she jeered.

Suddenly, she found herself on the offense, much like before. His temper was just as volatile as her own and she could not get enough of it. He was an easy one to upset and she would not let him forget it.

"You were even easier to bait than the last time," she laughed, kicking him in the pit of the stomach and closing in on him just as fast.

He parried her blows as quickly as he could. But she was still smiling. Not only had she succeeded in robbing of his air supply, but he now had to contend with his pain and her speed, which was increasing. It was now that he really realized how much she had toyed with him before. But he was smiling as well.

"I see…you had not treated me as a threat before," he chuckled. "In that case, I have a question. Should I stop toying with you?"

She stuck out her tongue as she ducked and darted between his legs, making a blow for his throat again. Legolas blocked it mid-stroke.

"I suppose I have been given my answer."

Just then, he struck back, damn near breaking her twig in half and it was then that she knew that he was fully prepared to use his strength against her.

"I see," she sighed. "I had hoped you wouldn't use… _that_. But it won't matter if you can't hit me with it."

Off in the Halls of Thranduil, the court had come to a standstill. They could hear the commotion outside. From the cavern came Thranduil, along with some of his guards, to watch. And they were evry surprised at what they saw…

**Authoress Chat:**** Sorry for the wait. But it was a longer chapter, so I hope that it compensates. Don't forget, if you liked it review. I will dedicate a chapter…no…make a character for you…if you can guess what Nenlas is planning. So remember to review okay? Until the next time! **


	29. 29 I Would Die For You

**Authoress Note: **** I apologize for the horrendous delay! I was being tag-teamed by my professors. As soon as one paper was due, they assigned another. They were just trying to compensate for Snowmageddon 2010, but it still took away my will to write. But it is Spring Break and I did not forget you so I'll try to post twice this week. No promises! Enjoy!**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine- I Would Die For You**

The sight before Thranduil was truly one worthy of amazement. The couple that held themselves in such calmness when they were within his presence was fighting with such ferociousness that they seemed different people. His son was wild, his strength overwhelming and abundantly apparent. It grew with every strike, wearing down on the branch that his companion had taken up. But Barawen was undaunted.

Where she was lacking in strength, she had more than enough agility to contend on even footing. She had brought her dress to a deplorable state. It was dirty and full of rips. But still, they fought, each landing strikes that sounded in the wood as claps of thunder.

"Honestly," one of the Kings most trusted guards began. "They fight as two rivals. I have not the capacity to foretell the victor."

Despite the air of seriousness, they both wore smiles as bright as their spirits. However…they were both approaching their limits. Barawen blocked a strike from him mere inches from her face and paused, huffing. Then she smiled.

"No warrior in my battalion ever possessed such incredible raw ability. You will have to forgive me. I am not ready to lose this eve!"

She pushed back up and, gathering all the strength she could muster, kicked the son of Thranduil in the chin, knocking him to the forest floor. Barawen placed her foot on his chest and her weapon at his throat.

"Concede. You have lost and must accept it." She smirked, tapping her weapon against his jugular vein.

Legolas smiled and dropped his apparatus, glancing over to the crowd which had amassed. Barawen was startled, falling on her backside with a loud thud. She thought to shrink at the embarrassment but all she could do was laugh. She glanced over to the King and smiled.

"I'm sorry for the noise," she laughed, getting up off the ground. "We got carried away. Do not fear. This will not happen again."

He held out a hand, bringing pause to her words.

"It is not a matter. The exhibition was one that I have not seen for an Age. You should clean yourselves; your appearances are unbecoming. Besides, I have wanted to talk with you both for some time. Once you have bathed, come to see me in my study."

/ / / / /

_There was pain and blood that day. Two Elves dressed in black made their way across the Enchanted River, seeking the Straight Road. It would be a long journey but it had already gone long overdue. _

"_Are you certain that this is wise?" the male said to the female._

"_Were it not of essence, the trip could wait. However, faltering may bring harm to __her__. You __and__ I know this to be true."_

_He paused, glancing to the child that was swaddled in his wife's robes. He did know that she was correct. Everyone knew. But they had been torn between the Sea and the Forest. They had no idea how much their tarrying would cost them._

/ / / / /

Barawen parted ways with Legolas at her chamber and walked in. Much to her surprise and chagrin, she saw Nenlas lying on a couch in the room. Her eyes were glossed in sleep. To this, Barawen had to hold back her hand, for every instinct in her body told her to knock Nenlas off of her couch. But it was as she thought this that her enemy murmured under her breath.

"Please…don't leave. Why did you _leave _me?!" she cried, her nails digging into the couch.

Upon hearing this, Barawen was taken aback. She was obviously having a nightmare but the raw terror in those words was palpable. She could hear the disgust in her enemy's voice; feel the fear rake across her skin and taste the bitterness that hung on the end of every syllable.

At this, her entire response was changed.

Barawen walked forward and grasped Nenlas by the shoulder. She shook her lightly enough to jolt her from the grips of despair.

"Nenlas! Nenlas wake up!" she said with a certain degree of urgency.

In her mind, Barawen knew that there was no reason for her to be so upset. Ever since she had arrived, Nenlas had tormented her. But now something tormented _her_. If she had any chance to get closer to her hopeful in-law, there was no better place for her to start.

Nenlas awoke in a start, shaking and sweating in a cold fear. Just for a moment, those pools of grey held fear but it was wiped away by the same stagnant malice as before.

"Why have you woken me, Noldo?" Nenlas spat, pushing Barawen away.

She rose, bringing herself face-to-face with the insulted elleth.

"Legolas is not here. Now is the time for words between ellith. That is a fair request, is it not?" Barawen could barely keep her anger in check.

Nenlas sneered.

"No, you are quite right. I have many words for you, Kinslayer. Most of them are in question of your purpose here. What makes you think that you are worthy of Legolas? You have no inkling of his true nature."

Barawen's face began to mirror the unabashed spite that was shown in this instance. She chuckled.

"In this you prove your own ignorance; ignorance in both your kin and myself. Were you a bit wiser, you would not think so lightly to call ma a Kinslayer. The next time shall cost you. I have broken sturdier Elves than you, you hateful wretch! I awoke you to see to it that you suffered not. But that kindness was wasted, I see."

In her admission, Nenlas did not have words. Surely she had expected her guest to bite back, but not to show her concern. She knew then that ruining her would require more subtlety. Luckily, it was hardly work to feign innocence. In a split second, her eyes welled with tears.

"You…what? Why do you care that I suffer? I have been trying to ruin you," she said in barely a whisper, her voice breaking.

Barawen walked up to her opponent and did something unexpected to the both of them.

She hugged Nenlas with all her might.

"I know you have. I am not blind. But I cannot help you if you act this way. What did you dream?"

Nenlas fell into her arms in an almost sisterly way,

"Oh, it was awful! I had dreams of the passing of my mother and father. It was so real…I felt as though I were there again. And there was no solace! There was only blood!"

"But you have awoken. All the ghosts have gone away."

Nenlas paused.

"No, Barawen. They never go away. I see that you have come to make yourself presentable. I will take leave of this place. Forgive me for my rudeness…"

Barawen smiled, watching her walk out the door.

"You have my word. Let there be nothing to fear when it comes to my anger. All that is past remains exactly that. Feel free to come to me when you are troubled."

As the door clicked behind her, Nenlas sighed.

"I will."

/ / / / /

Once Barawen had bathed and changed, she found her way to the King's study. Legolas was already there with his father, both of them dressed in long robes, though Thranduil's was red and Legolas' was silver. Barawen felt adequate in her own robe of orange and gold and was glad to see that she had not overestimated her dress choice. She had never seen Legolas in a robe before, so if he had donned one, the summoning must have been of significance.

"Hello, Barawen. You must sit quickly. There is much to discuss!"

That effervescent cheer was in his voice and joy was in his eyes. Her nerves loosened a bit and she pulled up a chair around the table that the others were sitting at.

"Thank you for the hospitality," she said smiling. "What did you wish to discuss, my Lord?"

A smile spread across the King's lips as well.

"I will not lie about my curiosity. Your heritage is mysterious to me and intriguing. But that is less a matter than the future between you two. I wished to know more about what is planned."

Barawen and Legolas looked at each other and exchanged looks of confusion.

"Which plans are you curious about?" Legolas asked his father.

"The future," Thranduil stated simply. "Where are your hearts calling? Alas, you both have dwelt here not even gotten to know my guest. So please…enlighten me."

Barawen was the quickest to answer.

"I have no thoughts on the matter. Before, I thought to sail westward. That was, until I met your son. And he has renewed my will to stay… at least for a little while. I have given no further questions to the matter of my future, so long as it is with him."

Legolas smiled at her and then gave his answer to his father.

"That is true," he said, leaning on his arm. "When we first met, she could barely withstand my presence. She has since proven to be a suitable companion. She quiets the Sea-longing within me."

His eyes were alit with the fire of knowing.

"So that is what binds you to each other. I see the balance that you each bring to the other. It reminds me of my own youth and my love with Merilwen. She calmed something dangerous in me…my pride. I find it interesting that so much of what I loved about her is mirrored in you two."

Legolas and Barawen were both caught off guard by the Kings thoughts of his wife and the nostalgia that was brought to his eyes.

Thranduil smiled and stood up to exit.

"I understand now. I accept these statements as truth and give a warning to heed the passage of time. There are still foul things which need undoing and time is not always kind. I release you both to attend to your hearts desires. Farewell."

And he walked out of the room without another word. Legolas and Barawen watched to make sure he was far gone before they released sighs of relief.

"Your father has a sharp wit. At times it is overwhelming."

"You have no idea. I heard from Nenlas that she has made peace with you. Is this true?" Legolas asked, no curiosity held from his voice.

"I found her in my room, asleep and in the grips of a powerful terror. She was coarse at first but I believe that she was sincere in her efforts to apologize. She has remorse for many things…that is something that I know well."

To this, his face twisted in anger and he refused to look at her.

"You would be wise to stop trying in your efforts. You do not know her as I do. Whatever fellowship you believe exists between you is a farce. I will not see you deceived in the same way that she has deceived me."

Barawen was stunned.

His tone was so coarse, so filled with hatred that she could never guess they had grown together. Not to mention that Legolas had not ever taken that tone with her, even whilst they were foes. She got up from her chair and walked over to her beloved, who rose from his seat as she came near.

Her head was rested on his chest as her hand fell on his heart.

"Please, trust me. I want to be friends with the one I hope to call my sister by marriage. Allow me to at least try. I ask you not to trust her but me."

Legolas' arms snaked around her in a tight embrace as he kissed her head lightly.

"I give you my word. I will honor your judgment. Just be careful."

**Authoress Note:**** I don't know what else to add here. Also, here's the meaning to Legolas' moms name.**

**Merilwen- Rose Lady **


	30. 30 STEP

**Authoress Chat:**** You owe this brilliant chapter title to Minmi. The song is actually pretty decent if you like J-Reggae. Enjoy! I sure did writing this!**

**Chapter Thirty- STEP**

Legolas left the council of his father with a heavy heart.

He had hurt Barawen to the core and he had felt it. It had stung him like a white hot blade. And there was instant regret. Why did he allow his anger to come towards her so freely? Ah, yes…it was the words his father had spoken beforehand.

"_Tell me, Legolas; how do you fare? It has been unfortunate that I did not ask sooner. Duty has called upon me."_

_Legolas smiled knowingly, picking up a strain of humor in his father's voice. _

"_I am the happiest that I have been in a long while. You talk as if afraid to question directly," he added playfully._

"_That is true. Her company reminds me of your Naneth (mother). She plays along with me eagerly. I see this one has a sense of humor. You have chosen well. However…" _

_Legolas' eyebrows jumped._

"_There is a however? What about her displeases you?"_

"_That is __not__ it. I'm talking about you. It is unfortunate that you have lost interest in your own sister. She missed you dearly. She still misses you. Tell me, why is that?"_

_His tone was no longer playful at all._

"_She is not my sister," Legolas said, his voice as cold as the Helcaraxë. "Furthermore, I have no cares for her troubles of heart."_

"_That is unfortunate. I wonder what has been said or done between you to arouse so much hatred. You barely resemble the son that I parted ways with."_

_The tension in the air was thick and the younger ellon was hot in temperament. His ire was rising steadily faster than he could control as he thought of how wicked his "sister" was and all the things she had done to betray both his love and his trust._

"_She has shown no sisterly love towards me. She destroys relationships I forge, torments my beloved and clouds me in darkness deeper than the Pit of Moria. How can I show affection to a being such as that?" he asked hotly._

_Thranduil shook his head._

"_I have no idea. But you must find a way. She gets worse because she still clings to that which she cannot have. She is lost, as her family is lost. She is confused, as she was in my arms as a child. She is grieving without tears. Only love can undo this. Speaking of which, I have seen Hirvegil's eyes following her remarkably close. Would you see if he is suitable to court her?"_

_Through a very tight jaw, his son gave his answer._

"_I will, my Lord."_

He came to Barawen's room to see what he could do to ease her mind of any thoughts that his emotional distance came from her. But he instead found that she was not there. Wondering where she might be, he began to walk around. It wasn't very long until she was found. Or rather, she found him. Her face was bright and full of joy as she came running into his arms.

"What is it, my love?"

"You will have to come with me to see it! If I told you, you would not believe me!"

She led him in a heated run towards the throne room. It was there that Legolas saw something that erased his fears completely. He felt a spark that he had become unfamiliar with as of late. The name of the spark was friendship.

"If it isn't the Elvish-princeling and his Elven-lady!"

The joyful prince came forward, picking his friend up off the ground in an overly-friendly hug.

"Gimli! You still haven't grown!"

Barawen giggled at the intense nostalgia and they awaited the King's greetings towards his guest.

"Mae govannen, Master Gimli," Thranduil began. "Welcome to my court. My son is obviously…fond of you. I have not seen him so _excited_ to see anyone! You must have so much catching up to do. I welcome you and your party to my home for as long as you wish."

And with that, he was gone, for duty was always calling. Even still, Gimli had received a far better impression than his people had and for this, there was more reason for Legolas to be happy in his heart.

His two followers, Odin and Thor, had given him much grief about his choice to come. However, from the moment the King had greeted them, their suspicions were laid at ease. They did not distrust their company, which was good to those who knew Gimli best among them. And from the great festivity, they drew out the scourge of Thranduil's court.

Nenlas had changed yet again to a dress of yellow and gold and had come to greet the 'strange guests.' When she saw what made them strange, she was very displeased. Despite this, she was a Lady of the House and was expected to be no less than courteous. So she hid her disgust with a smile and kind eyes.

"Welcome, Masters. I trust that you are well," she said in a more bubbly voice than was usual. "Might there be anything I can get for you?"

Odin had lived a long while, yet he had never seen a more beautiful creature. Sure, Gimli boasted of the Lady Galadriel incessantly but they had not ever seen an Elf maiden before. And he was smitten.

"You have given me quite enough already. You're too kind," he said in a very gentlemanly manner.

Holding back a twinge of scorn, she nodded and walked over to the harp and began to play it, casting an enchantment over all within ear-shot. It was soothing, in the league of the songs of Melian the Maia and Lúthien the enchantress. She sang a mighty hymn to Elbereth, in praise of her stars and it moved even the Dwarves, who could not understand a single word.

When she was finished, she trailed off into a song devoid of words. Yet still, it sired more peace amongst the two peoples. Barawen took a seat beside her, resting a hand on her new friend. Nenlas stopped momentarily to question her.

"What is it? I thought we had made peace." Her voice was questioning.

"We have. I would like to join you if it is at all possible. But if you would rather sing alone, I would be happy to listen. Your voice is much fairer than mine."

Nenlas was bewildered.

Why did Barawen try so hard? Of course, she had offered her friendship but she had no intention of letting her keep it. She didn't like her…hated her. She was an enemy who had made little attempt at companionship. Barawen had done all the work; she had just played the victim. She found her response utterly _pitiful, _which would make her next moves all the easier and sweeter.

"Join if you like. I will not stop you," Nenlas said as nonchalantly as possible.

Barawen began humming in the background and soon was singing in a steady, even rhythm to compliment her friend's. And the court was pleased. When they were both finally weary of their game, they sat down with their Dwarven Company and enjoyed a candle-lit meal. Gimli finally got to taste his fill of Dorwinion wine, pleasing him above all else.

/ / / / /

It had been a nice time of partying and festivities. However, as the King's schedule cleared, he found that his guest had come there to speak business to them that had gathered.

"What did you say?" Thranduil's voice was full of worry.

"My Lord, I came to request that your son join me in a great endeavor and favor to the King of Gondor, a dear friend to us both."

Thranduil had to suppress the worst of his fatherly instincts. There was worry still for all the evil near Mordor that had not yet been subdued. He had been able to cleanse his forest but the closer his son was to the empty fortress of the Abhorred One, the more discomfort it brought to him. Still, he would try to be reasonable.

"What is it that he desires?" Thranduil asked tentatively.

"The forest in Ithilien is barren and marred. He wants the Elf to come with him a dwell there. Besides, we were all very close. I told him 'Why not?' I came for the Prince's decision."

Legolas and Thranduil were silent for some time. Though the more Legolas thought about the opportunity to explore, the more he fell in love with it. He had to hand it to the Dwarf. Gimli had timed the proposition beautifully. He looked to his father, his smile broad but his eyes questioning.

"Whatever he decides is what is wisest," Thranduil said, sitting back on his throne lazily. "What say you, Legolas?"

"Of course. It would bring me honor…and this excites me much. I have things to attend to. I must leave for a time but I promise I will join you for dinner."

And he left in a rush, leaving his company wholly confused.

But _he_ was not.

His feet carried him swiftly to the smithy where the Masters were working hard to fashion more jewels for the King. They saw him and promptly bowed.

"They are ready?" Legolas asked breathlessly?

"They are ready."

/ / / / /

"Legolas, where are we going?" Barawen said testily.

Though a laugh was in her throat, she tired of being robbed of her sight. Luckily for him, he led her flawlessly, never leading her astray or into sketchy territory.

He was being overly secretive. A surprise? Perhaps, she thought. But her curiosity was building to a level on par with mania. She _had_ to know. Her patience (or effort at patience) was rewarded greatly as he removed her blindfold.

He had led her to a grove deep within the woods. It looked untouched by Elf or beast. There was a pond there, with water that was bright blue and housed the loveliest of silver and gold fish. Amid the grass was a sea of white niphredil blossoms, as fragrant as any perfume in Aman and lovely in the purity of their hue. The canopy was full of other blossoms of yellow and blue, winding up the bark and finding homes amidst the leaves. In those tree tops, there were nightingales singing. And Legolas was sitting amongst all that beauty, wearing gold. Now she understood why he had begged her to wear a raiment of blue. Everything was so symbolic and so…

"Perfect," she murmured, breath-taken. "This is a haven the likes of which I have not seen in eons. It is all beautiful."

The look in his face was peaceful, full of cheer and his mind was clear. He patted on a space next to him for her to sit and they shared a passionate kiss. They were both domineering people but this day there was no contest. There was simply consent, as they played a game of leading and following, finding Justas much content in doing so. Legolas broke the kiss, picking a flower to place in her hair.

"My father used to tend this grove. It was his favorite place to be with my mother before she was called home by the Sea. Merilbess, he called her; his rose bride. But I have never fancied flowers very much."

"Legolas?" she asked questioning, as he was lost in thought. "I did not mean to make you miss her."

A small laugh rumbled in his chest.

"Miss her? I feel closer to her than I have in centuries. My father favors the earth and its blossoms. But not me. I often look to the stars and think of Fanuilos. I try to imagine what she looks like and how she shines. However, I find that I have not been so preoccupied with her of late."

"Oh no? I could tell you of her, if you really wish to know," Barawen offered. "I am not much of an artist but I could also venture there if it would end your curiosity."

He smiled, grasping her hands and kissing them.

"There is no need. The brightest of all Elbereth's stars is at my side. And oh, how she shines."

Barawen turned pink, severely flattered and she kissed her love. She could not bear for him to continue. She did not feel that she deserved such praise. This was evident in the mist that formed in her eyes.

"You flatter me. For all my mistakes I am a sullied star. You need not flatter me so."

He placed his fingers on her lips, calming her.

"I see none of that. All I see is goodness. You must come to see it to my love. You bring me so much happiness…I would gladly trade away all the stars in the sky if it meant that I might keep this one Silmaril."

He reached within his tunic for something, which was covered in a velvet cloth. Barawen had known this day would come but the knowledge did not take away the butterflies floating around in her stomach. She opened her mouth, meaning to speak but no words were issued forth. As he revealed two beautifully crafted rings of silver, her tears finally fell.

"Barawen, _nin bestathal_? (Will you marry me)" he asked, looking deep into her eyes.

She nodded enthusiastically, shedding still more tears.

"Le bestathon!" she shouted, shaking in excitement.

Legolas put on his ring and then gave her own. As he slid the ring on her finger, a look of confusion flashed across his face, followed by humor. His hands found their way to her face, touching the moisture that had stained her cheeks.

"Why do you cry, my love?" he asked tenderly.

"Because I am happy. Do not speak. Just kiss me!"

And kissing is just what they did.

**Authoress Chat: Please read and review! Let me know if I am on the right track. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think. :) **


	31. 31 Rock Show

**Authoress Note:**** I'm so sorry for making you all wait so long for an update. As some reviewers know, I was kicked out of my mom's house and had been unable to post because my aunt's computer is all kinds of fucked up. Anyways, I finally got some inspiration. The story is coming around full circle. But you'll see what I mean…**

**Chapter Thirty-One- Rock Show**

"Please bring more water and rags. The child will be coming to us very soon," the midwife announced to one of the other nurses.

The helper nodded and left with expedience, urgency fueling every step.

Steeping the only clean rag remaining in the murky water, the midwife laid the cloth across her mistress's forehead. Her breathing was labored and sweat dripped from her brow. Despite this, her eyes were unfocused and held a quality to them that may have suggested the elleth was dreaming…if the nurse did not know any better. However, she did.

This period of her labor was undoubtedly her receiving a vision from the Valar.

_It was raining blood and fire. As the earth and sky withered to blackness, there rose a single nephridel from the ground. As it flowered, there was a brilliant song in the distance. At its most beautiful stage in life, the song hit a haunting crescendo. All of the sudden, the song stopped. There was nothing but the silence. With the death of the song, the flower crumbled into red dust._

When Elpheleth awoke, she had tears flowing from here eyes. There was frenzy around her, with midwives scurrying about for a reason completely unknown. The only calm person was her husband.

Othanar ran his fingers through her matted blonde hair, giving her a look that brought a measure of peace to his wife, who desperately pleaded for news of her child.

"They seek a healer. Since she was born, she has not cried. They fear for her health and do not know if she is suffocating…"

His voice cracked and then there was silence. He could not bring himself to talk about the possibility of his child being born only to die. His bronze eyes lowered, followed by his head, allowing his silvery locks to shield him from his wife's prying eyes.

She shed bitter tears from her slate grey eyes, choking back her sobs. Her trembling fingers wrapped around her spouses digits as she exhaled. Her grip as iron as her will, she spoke out at last.

"Give me the girl. I want to hold my daughter."

"My lady, I would strongly advise-" the midwife began, only to be cut off rather curtly.

"When I require council, I will ask for it. Where is my daughter?"

The midwife was quick to bring an end to the confusion and summoned the new mother's child to her.

Her beauty was overwhelming. Her face was of her other's design, right down to her cherry lips. And her hair was a delicate shining mixture of hair colors; silvery white with strains of gold. However, her daughter was still and silent.

Elpheleth leaned down towards the elfling's chest to listen for a heartbeat. The beat was strong, easing a great deal of anxiety from her mind. As if by instinct, the mother began to sing to her offspring. It went one line at a time, her resolve building each step of the way, as her daughter became more responsive.

There was magic in their bond. As her mother sang a hymn to Elbereth, the child began to mimic the movements of her lips. She yearned to feel the essence of her mother's song, her tiny fingers grasping feebly for her mother's mouth. The two of them smiled and all others followed suit. They had seen divinity in this one gesture and they knew that the child would live and prosper.

But in Elpheleth's mind there lingered that doubt and uncertainty of her vision.

"What shall we name her?" Othanar spoke, interrupting the silence. His fingers swept some of the haze from his daughter's eyes. "She is, without doubt, a visage akin to Nephridel in spring."

The doubt sank deeper, her vision seemingly unfolding before her.

"Surely, she is. I think I know what she shall be named."

/ / / / /

Nenlas sat underneath a large tree, humming softly to a linnet bird that had flown to her, seeking to be closer to her ethereal voice. She humored the creature's request; something she realized was quite outside her nature.

Perhaps if her singing could impress this lesser form…perhaps if she was still enough…perhaps this bird would stay. Wait! Why did she and why should she care? Pondering why her mind had ventured there, she let her arm fall. The bird fluttered about, seeking stability. And when the two beings decided there was none to be found between them, she flung her arm forwards, sending the bird on its way.

Underneath the flutter of wings, she found the sound of footsteps. She shifted in the grass, gathering her dresses silver threads in anticipation of a speedy departure. She looked to survey the newcomer to her haven.

Surprisingly, she found herself staring into the eyes of Hirvegil. She could not deny that they were especially blue in the twilight. Quickly expelling the thought from her mind, Nenlas put on the first genuine smile of the day. Her chin tilted slightly in deference.

"Lord Hirvegil," she nodded, smiling and walked past.

He was struck by nerves and the sting of love but the gentle brush of her fingertips against his own gave him back what her smile had stolen. This would be the day. This was his day to tell her what he had felt for her since she had reached her majority.

"Nenlas!"

/ / / / /

"Pilloth!" Elpheleth screamed in terror as she narrowly dodged a grimy orcish blade.

Though she was unscathed, she fell harshly. Her young daughter flinched at the impact as her soft skull suffered the worst of the blow. She still did not cry out. There was nowhere to run…no time to think or plan. Elpheleth shut her eyes tightly as her hands found their way to Pilloth's ears to act as barriers from the sound of death and hatred. Her body became a fortress.

"Elpheleth!" Othanar called out, hacking his way through the battalion of orcs that separated him from his wife and child.

He fought his enemies and his tears, knowing that he was far too outnumbered. His death was all but ensured. But he could not just leave them! He had to be near her. He had to see their faces one more time.

He sliced through the neck of one of the foul beasts, feeling the weight of time heavy on him as he drew nearer to them. His life and joy…so close, yet so far. The leader of his foes took notice of the object that so distracted the elf. He barred his jagged teeth as he faced ahead of Othanar.

It couldn't end like this.

Yet, somehow, it had ended.

The orc drove his blade deep into Elpheleth's heart, forcing all air from her lungs. Her tears were great, her scream hoarse. Othanar dropped his blade, succumbing to the onslaught. His will had left him. His blood quickened afterwards, only to flow out of his mouth and stomach.

"I wonder if the little she-elf is still alive," the leader snickered proudly.

He never found out.

A feathered shaft flew out from the trees, setting itself deep into his brain. The orcs screeched as the elvish cavalry showed themselves. These were highly skilled scouts and the rag-tag band of orcs stood no chance against the first-born. The sound of hatred died quickly. The blond one lowered his head in remembrance of the fallen elves.

The child was not harmed. She reached up for her mother's mouth and when she felt that the song had fled her body, she wailed something terrible.

"There is one of them who is alive."

/ / / / /

Nenlas stopped dead in her tracks. She did not dare to move forward but, for all her perceived perfection, she could not muster the courage to look back. This one was dangerous. She could not control him. He did not fear her retribution. He was unafraid to pursue. The feeling of her heart flying about in her chest was unbearable. ..And it was all she ever felt around him. He distracted her from her mission.

"Yes?" she said, the edge of suspicion weighted heavily on the word.

"I just wanted to let you know…that song is beautiful. And I never thought I'd be so blessed as to have you for a friend."

There it was again! A crossroads; be cold or be true. He was difficult.

"I am glad that you enjoyed it." She paused, her emotions getting the better of her all at once. "I have to go!"

She ran, leaving him at his own crossroads. He could let her leave or pursue her. His greatest test of courage…

/ / / / /

"She has no discernable family. And she is remarkably young," Legolas reported to his father and mother.

She had not stopped crying the entire time that she had been in Thranduil's halls. Not that the development was all too surprising. Her parents had been brutally murdered and, due to her youth, no one knew exactly what or how much she would remember.

The King nodded and motioned to his son. His hand found its way over to his wife's. She had been his wife for over three thousand years and had not been put in such a situation before. For Merilwen, this would be a major test of her ability to provide sovereignty to her people in their time of need.

"Bring the elleth to us."

Legolas quickly did as his father asked. Though he was, by title, a prince, he did not mind at all being his father's messenger. Besides that, Legolas had never seen a death that moved him so deeply.

When he got to the mother, he was disturbed at the power of her grip. Her grip was _so _powerful that he and Hirvegil had to remove the mother's arms, thus defaming the corpse (something he felt was a betrayal to his very nature). Yet…somehow…he felt himself protecting her in the exact same way.

He laid the child into the arms of his father and allowed him to take in her beauty. Her cries quieted significantly as she felt the loving gazes of the senior elves on her. Her hands reached for the lips of the Lady Merilwen.

"What does she want?" Legolas mused.

Thranduil laughed heartily as he gave the elfling to his wife to hold. The elleth pulled gently on the lips of his wife. She seemed to be trying to form certain words on the elder's mouth. Just like a song-

"Where did you find her?" Merilwen asked.

"Near the river that runs between us and the Northern wood."

Thranduil and Merilwen smiled at one another, brimming with love. They had a name for her. They had found joy near the water. And her name would be Nenlas.

**Authoress Chat****: I eat reviews so please feed me. There is a part two to this chapter. I'll try to post it within the work. Stupid library computers…**


	32. 32 Cooler Than Me

**Chapter Thirty-Three- Cooler Than Me**

Deep underneath the ground and almost to the end of Thranduil's hall, there was a place specially crafted for the use of his family. The waters from the earth poured down, steadily and surely, there. There a lake formed a bottomless refuge for the fish that the Elves had collected.

There were shining rocks and gems clinging to the walls, sparkling with brilliance in the warm light of candles. And on benches carves of soapstone, sat the Queen, dressed head to toe in scarlet, roses wrapped in her warm brown hair. Her children were together, dressed in similar blue robes, touching their household pets.

"Would you like to feed the fish?" Legolas offered, seating himself closer to the elfling.

The two exchanged glances, each conveying love and happiness. The elleth took the bag of stale bread crumbs into her hands, grabbed a handful, and held her arm out, beaming with joy. Merilwen smiled as well, glad that her adoptive daughter had grown to love her son and had accepted the situation with minimal grief.

Nenlas held the crumbs in a clenched fist until Legolas brought her back to reality.

"Apologies…I was distracted," Nenlas said, unfolding her hands, allowing the crumbs to fall in the pond.

They fell into the dark water, sending a ripple across the pit. Her eyes went vacant, hazy like smog. Her hand was shaking as she reached towards a fish that was eating. Legolas and his mother went silent, watching her closely.

Her lip shook and suddenly, she snatched the fish from the pond and crushed it between her fingers. Her thumb twisted its head to the side, her index finger, helping. Each other finger took it's pick of vertebrae, sending rivets of blood down her hand.

Horror pervaded the room as Merilwen rushed to the pond. She fell to her knees, shaking Nenlas as she uncurled the girl's fingers from around the dead and broken life form.

"Oh my-" the Lady was speechless. "Nenlas! Why would you do that?"

The elfling looked up to them, tears stinging her eyes. Her hands curled into fists as she rubbed the blood off on robes. She shook her head.

"It ate all of the crumbs. I'm sorry…"

/ / / / /

Nenlas ran as quickly as she possibly could. If there was one thing that she could not stand, it was someone forcing her into a corner. She was used to being in control! She had _no_ sway over him. He didn't flinch under her cruelty. He didn't care how deep her will to inflict pain ran.

'How can he see goodness in me?' she asked herself in absolute uncertainty.

Another thing that was unfamiliar to her…

But Hirvegil had made up his mind already. He had delayed his confession for five hundred years. He had watched and suffered the torment of witnessing her beauty in silence. He had longed to touch her lips with his own, to taste the songs on her tongue. If he could not have this last ray of perfection in Arda, he would lose his mind. Without a thought, he was hunting her as if she were a doe.

She might have been fast but he was faster. He had grown bold, grasping her by the wrist and holding her firm. Nenlas was startled, swinging her free hand without thinking what the consequences might be. Before her slap could land, he had forced her to the ground.

"Get off me! Get off me!" she cried, kicking and struggling.

"Calm yourself!" he yelled, sending her a look of both strength and kindness. "Why did you run from me? I merely complimented you."

He paused, looking deep into her eyes.

"You flatter and I entertain the notion! What more could you ask of me? What could you possibly wish me to say?"

For a moment he looked defeated. But his determination quickly overcame the burst of shyness.

"I want nothing but your consideration. Alas, for centuries your acknowledgement has escaped me. I have always longed for this-"

"For what?" she yelled, casting her admirer a dangerous look, full of contempt.

"I have longed to look into the grey of your eyes and see what is in your heart. And, at last, I believe I understand."

/ / / / /

"She did what?" Thranduil asked suspiciously.

He rolled over in his bed to face his concerned wife. Her dark eyes were burning with worry for their ward.

"I have never seen such a look in anyone's eye. It was vacant, yet hostile. She was gone. Her fingers twisted that poor animal into a shape that _no_ thing should ever be!"

Merilwen was trembling…crying.

Thranduil came to her and held her in a tight embrace. She had been rattled to her core. This hardship was a wound that they had inflicted upon themselves. Her condition was regrettable, but they had done the right thing. Hadn't they?

"We chose this course of action. There was no better option. And though she may not be perfect, we shall surround her with so much love that she will heal. She can heal. You know this, do you not?"

Merilwen nodded, burrowing her head in her husband's chest. She kissed his forearm, as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I can see the possibilities in her eyes. I do not know for certain which can be achieved."

/ / / / /

"I can see your heart. You are love. I can feel it in you. I can feel your pain. It is the same pain that I harbor."

Nenlas was taken aback. His words were definite. He meant every word. She could tell. But why…how could he possibly mean this?

"What are you talking about? You do not know me, no matter your claims. Even if you tell me this in truth, I cannot figure the aim. Do you wish that I return the sentiment? I do not know how to. I have never known. All I know is that my heart flies in my chest, absent direction. And whenever you are near I lose myself to the one feeling that I possess no mastery of!"

Hirvegil lost his breath for a moment. Her outpour was surprising to say the least. He was then certain that the feeling she spoke of was love. The one emotion she could not convey or even admit to experiencing was the very same one that she was overcome by. He had felt it as well. His eyes closed as he felt her guard lower.

Her hands fell, free of his, as he moved to feel her porcelain face. Hirvegil brought his face down to hers and felt how warm she was. His lips found their way to the tip of her ear.

"If you say to me, right this moment, that you have no feelings for me, then I will depart forever from your presence. But if you cannot utter those words to me, then I will continue to love you. Even if I must do so from afar, I will happily, knowing that you think of me at any point during the day."

Her teeth gnashed, realizing that he had called her bluff. She has no compunction about lying to anyone. But this deception could not find its way out of her mouth. Her throat closed up, as she fought to hold back her tears.

"You cannot say it," he sighed in relief, his eyes shutting slightly tighter. "So I will be content with your presence. Even if you never admit the truth to me, I will see it in your eyes every morn and be at peace."

Against her better judgment, Nenlas grasped his face and moved him gently so that his mouth could find hers. Their lips met and there was a dance between them. It had no leader, it had no definite end. But it was pleasurable to the both of them and they would have gone on longer. However…

"Forgive us. We did not mean to interrupt."

**Authoress Chat: ****I gotta stop saying stuff and not following through. But I posted in a week! (laughety-laugh) You'll see who caught them later. Thanks for the reviews. Please make sure to click the button for this chapter as well. Oh yeah. Very important: I forgot to add the translations for her parents names last chapter. And yes, Pilloth was her original name. **

**Othanar- dim figure/apparition**

**Elpheleth- waning star**

**Pilloth- flower of silence**

**Thanks for reading! Ja ne! **

**PS: I'm halfway through the next chapter. Just be patient, please?**


	33. 33 Mercy

**Chapter Thirty-three- Mercy**

"Forgive us. We did not mean to interrupt."

A pang of self-reproach cracked through Nenlas like a bolt of lightning. A most unfortunate series of events had just hit her full on. Firstly, she had just given into a most troublesome emotion; an act that was beneath someone of her station. Secondly, she had succumbed to this weakness of character before a witness and the witness that she wanted to remain the strongest around.

A flash of rage escaped her, prompting Nenlas to shove Hirvegil forcefully away from her and stare daggers into her perceived enemy. As quickly as the rage had surfaced in her, the more familiar cold malice took over her delicate features. Tears came to her eyes.

"How dare you force me into such straits? You should be ashamed, for I am your Lady!" Nenlas shouted.

Hirvegil and Nenlas had been joined in the clearing by Legolas and Barawen. Where all three had once held joy in their faces, they had exchanged such emotion for stark horror and disbelief. Barawen and Legolas had happened upon the kiss just as their lips touched and had forced her hand over Legolas' mouth and forced him behind a tree as quietly as she could manage.

The two of them witnessed at least a solid minute of kissing between the two and knew for certain that Hirvegil had not forced her to do such a thing. Surely, he had taken the initiative, much to the mirth of the unwitting spectators, but no action had been taken to keep the elleth there against her will! In fact, Nenlas had fallen rather naturally into the exchange. The horror and disbelief was changed, specifically in Legolas, into utter disgust.

"I know that you feel the same as I do. Were you as cold inside as you feign being on the outside, I would be offended. But I should be content to wait a lifetime for your love, Nenlas," Hirvegil replied, ignoring the devastating bruise to his ego.

Her tears were dried, as if evaporated by the heat of her ill-will, and her cruelty reared its head in full force. She had too much to lose by professing love for any ellon other than the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. And right now, Hirvegil's interest held no entertainment or comfort. He was seriously in her way.

"You fool. I could care less if you wait a lifetime. You seek comfort in the arms of enemy. Do not speak thusly to me of this again. For me, your love holds no interest."

And she turned on her heel to leave, walking with the pride of a Queen and the arrogance of a champion. But on the inside, she felt something beneath the dark intent and hatred shatter into a half. She had done a bad thing…

Legolas could take no more at this point. To first accuse one of his dearest companions of ungentlemanly behavior and then to dash both his and her future dreams to pieces was simply unforgivable. He ran to her side and grasped her firmly by the arm. She looked to him and, at first, was shocked. Slowly, a psychotic grin spread across her face.

"Is there a problem, brother dearest?"

Her teeth were barred, her smile definitively 'off'. But she still had no identifiable emotion in her eyes. It was in this moment that Legolas began to connect what his father had said to him about his sister all of those times before. Even though her erratically malicious behavior made it difficult to stand her company for a sizeable period of time, she was in danger of…something. And though it may pain, his attention might be her saving grace.

"I wish to speak with you, privately, and I will honor no objection."

"I would not presume to stop you, my Lord," her voice held a mocking undertone to it.

Barawen watched with concern as Legolas damn near drug Nenlas far ahead in front of them. She could hardly blame him for becoming irate. He and Hirvegil had suffered and prospered together for many years and to hear such an obvious and downright spiteful attack to his honor could not have been easy for one as excitable as the Prince. But the most concerning thing was the flash of a smile that she had been able to see. Her grin was eerily apathetic and false. She prayed with all her heart not that Legolas would abstain from harming Nenlas, but that Nenlas would not harm her newly betrothed.

As Nenlas was whisked away, out of sight, Hirvegil sank to his knees and succumbed to the overwhelming grief that his beloved had left him with. Barawen sank with him, grasping his chin and forcing him to look in her eyes. She smiled as brightly as she could manage prompting a meager grin from him.

"Do not give way to despair. She is stubborn, as I am sure you have noticed through your watching. She will not easily admit her vulnerability. Be patient."

Tears stung his eyes at the words. He had told himself these things when he first began falling for her. When he lost himself in her voice yet was still invisible to her eyes, he would soothe himself with what he considered the truth. However, he had been caught off-guard by her outburst. He had felt something ethereally real and knew for certain that she had felt it too. For her to insult his integrity and refuse herself using him as a vessel was beyond the scope of his comprehending. Was this pointless? Had he been mistaken as to the truth?

"I used to tell myself that, every day and every night, as I laid awake, gazing at the horizon. I would imagine the moment where the softness of her lips had become known to me at last. Now that I have felt what I desired most of all, my heart is torn. I experienced everything that I committed to fantasy and my visions did not fall short. But it was brief and unlikely to occur any time in the foreseeable future. The future is not visible to me. All certainty has been stolen from me."

Barawen sucked her teeth in annoyance. Her eyes shut, masking a furious glare but doing nothing for the ferocious blush burning her cheeks. She felt an intense hatred and overwhelming guilt.

'I knew she aimed to separate me and Legolas, but I never expected this new low. She caresses with one hand and strikes with the other. I ignored that disconnect and sought to bridge the gap but she is beyond my saving. The true victim of her evil and poison is Hirvegil. A blind man could see without trouble that she harbors love for him and he for her. To accuse him of shameful conduct towards a Lady of the royal family she is not to be forgiven!' Barawen resolved in her mind.

/ / / / /

Once safely away, the two siblings by bond shed all friendly guises. Nenlas stood tall and dangerous, as a cat absent claws, fangs barred, Legolas was the lion; stealthy, well versed in her ways and poised to strike her down if he needed to.

"Oh, do not tell me that you are upset by that exchange with your subject. It is a blow that the dog will recover from."

"Silence yourself, hateful wretch! I have watched him love you for five hundred years. If your feelings do not mirror his, that is another fact entirely, but not insult his name by referencing him as a dog. You are the one behaving truly as a beast!" Legolas cried, unable to bite his tongue anymore.

His outburst prompted a cruel bout of laughter from his 'sister', as she made herself as grand as possible. She came face to face with Legolas, posturing with all her might.

"You wouldn't agree? That he is a hound? You deny that no matter how many times I kick him he will come back for more? Admit it," Nenlas' voice became barely a whisper, "He lives for his master's call and for the scraps I throw to him. He cannot comprehend the true measure of his master's desires. Just like a dog! He has failed to grasp that his future is all as determined by my sole discretion!"

Legolas grasped her by the arms, forcing her up onto her toes and he spoke to her firmly and harshly. She had no idea what she had unleashed upon them, except for an all too familiar misery.

"You listen to me. I am sorry that I was not there for you when you needed me. You have been hurting for years and the more manipulative you became, the more disinterest I showed. That was wrong. I see now that if I had paid more care to your mental health, you'd never have ended up this way. But I warn you of this: Barawen is my betrothed and I will marry her a year hence. Should you stand in my way, I shall see to it that you and I never meet again. _I promise you_…"

As he let go, pang a pain shot through her arms. She did not show it hut his anger had startled her. She thought to the necklace she had 'accidentally' happened upon and knew that she had to wait to transfer possession to her newest puppet. Perhaps she had made this game a little too dangerous…

**Authoress Chat: Sorry for another terribly long ass intermission. But the story will get happier. I promise. I just wanted to get through this arc. Hope my life straightens out well. And don't forget to review. Please! It makes this all feel worth it! Also, I've been thinking abouting going back over my story, since I began it a year ago and I really think the later chapters are better and much more poetic. Let me know what you think! Until next time! Ja ne!**


	34. 34 Energy

**Authoress Chat****: Two words. November Two-thousand and ten. I thoroughly regret leaving you guys hanging. Been going through so much, and so depressed. How do I apologize for being gone a year and a half? I've been through the ringer. But I'm finally getting out of a terrible situation with terrible family members. To all those who had faith I'd return, thank you. Your reviews gave me the inspiration I needed. Thank you for more than you guys can ever realize.**

**Chapter Thirty-Four- Energy**

"It pleases me to announce to all in attendance of court the betrothal of my son, Legolas. To Lady Barawen of Tirion!"

The hall erupted into applause, as the couple rose to present themselves. It had been a bit impromptu, the entire feast, but King Thranduil was no stranger to short notice. He enjoyed surprising his subjects and he felt that his son deserved to be the most honored subject tonight.

The cavern had been covered in blue and green silk scarves, draped over the lanterns carved in to the ceiling. Thranduil had requested the most aged Dorwinion wines to be brought out. The hall glittered in the lights of a thousand candles, all resting in crevices of the walls. A choir of dedicated minstrels sang in the background.

"Settle down; I have more good news. My son is soon to scout out the forest of Ithilien and he will take with him a colony of Elves who wish not to leave the shores of Arda very soon. I bid you use this time well, both to consider whether you wish to leave and to assist my son in preparing to start his new House."

Legolas and Barawen seated themselves, smiling all the while. Barawen reached out to touch his hand, relishing the warmth that radiated from it, hot like the light of the first sun. Looking out at the crowd, it saddened her to see that Hirvegil and Nenlas were not among the bright faces. News of new places, weddings and children rang through the air.

"_Perhaps they will not despise me as their Lady. Perhaps my sins require no more atoning. Mishaps, I will meet my parents as an elleth they can be proud of...'_

Silver platters were brought forward with the finest foods. Roasted pheasant, boar and duck were on two of the platters. Two were filled with whole fruits and summery fruit tarts loaded with blueberries, strawberries and peaches. The last two were loaded with bread rolls, both sweetened and unsweetened.

"This all looks so delicious, Thranduil! How did you know to prepare this wonderful meal?" she asked.

The Elven-king just winked.

"I do make a habit to know what my smiths are commissioned to make. My riches help to feed and protect my people. So I have known of Legolas' intent since this morning. That reminds me, where is your sister?"

Legolas and Barawen exchanged glances. Neither thought it too wise an idea to tell all of what happened. For Barawen's part, she wanted to maintain some friendly exchange. That superficial camaraderie she had shared was a step in the right direction. As for Legolas, where he felt that his father may have sympathized with his feelings towards Nenlas' disrespect, he would never have condoned Legolas laying hands on her.

"I have not seen her all night. Perhaps someone should check on her," Legolas finally answered coldly.

"Why not enjoy yourselves. I sense there has been some hesitance to truly be yourself. I just want you to know, Barawen, that our people still do admire the Noldor. Just be who my son fell in love with and your people will follow suit. Feast, drink... I will be back."

Thranduil walked with a cool swagger. The knowledge that his walls were once again truly safe seemed to radiate in the room. He was warm and effervescent, stopping frequently to talk to those at court. Many wanted clarity on when the prince would be leaving. Some just wanted to feel like he cared about what they thought. As usual, he did care, but he was discreet with what troubled him.

He was worried about Nenlas' well-being. Nenlas had arrived before Legolas and his betrothed, running and visibly shaken. She had quickly put on a black riding hood and took her mare Suldal (wind foot) on a hard ride. He remembered trying to stop her from leaving.

_Nenlas pulled the hood tighter to cover up her face as she made a break for the stables. Thranduil, who had been in the middle of hanging a drape, took off after her. She had yet to cry, and had never been much of a crier, but he could see hot red in her face. She was slipping. _

_As she slipped the bridle in to the horse's mouth, Thranduil slipped into the stall behind her. _

"_What's wrong?"he asked. "Where are you going?"_

_She raised her head, yet did not face him. Even though she was choking back tears, she still managed to maintain her ever present hubris. _

"_Why do you ask, 'father'? Would it matter to you if I were to ride far and meet the same fate as my parents? Let me go."_

_Thranduil was shocked. He had not told her that she was adopted for many years. Merilwen had often pressed him to inform her, to ease the elleth's curious and confused mind. He could never bring himself to do it until Merilwen had almost been killed by a giant spider. Whereas it would not normally have attacked, it had sensed the new life growing in her belly. It snuffed out the child with its painful grip. The loss of a third child had hurt him badly and losing Merilwen hurt worse. When she left for Aman, he decided that he would tell Nenlas. She deserved to have the truth._

"_Do you truly hate me that much? Have I ever treated you differently?"Thranduil asked, barring her from leaving._

_Nenlas turned slowly. _

"_You know, when Legolas would watch me as an elfling, I felt safe. I felt like he could possibly be mine. But I tortured myself for years thinking that I was a monster; a monster like Maeglin!" Her eyes narrowed, twisting her usual beauty into something crueler. "Only I beheld that I shared no blood with him at all! To be so near yet never know his love. I hate you for your lies! Why could you not leave alone to die! Or give me to another couple, so that I may have had hope!"_

_Thranduil moved close to hug her but she pushed him away. He tried again, to be side-stepped. Finally, he just took her by the arms and held her. He noticed her wince._

"_What happened? What happened to my minstrel?"_

_Finally she broke down and rolled up her sleeves. He arms were blue and purple. The tears flowed freely then. She told him of Hirvegil's affection for her and how Legolas had been enraged by her insults._

"_Why would you...Iell vuin (beloved daughter)..."_

"_I am not your daughter. Please, I have a ride to go on, my Lord."_

Thranduil shook his head as soon as he entered the hallway. To hear Nenlas openly admit to hating him had been almost to much to bare. He could only hope that she had returned safely. If not, he would have to send a search party to look for her.

"_Maybe I'm just keeping her here for my personal feelings. Have I ever asked her where she wants to be? Will Hirvegil be alright?"_

/ / / / /

Barawen had separated herself mingle and found herself swarmed with well-wishing married ellith. The sweetest of them introduced herself as Camaen. She had a cute face with a small nose, wide grey eyes and rosy pink cheeks and lips. Her auburn heir was combed back into a bun which was held in place by two long braids with ribbons woven in them. She wore what Barawen freely admitted was a breathtaking emerald green dress, with daffodils embroidered into the collar, sleeves and train. She wore pearl necklaces and earrings.

"What a beautiful dress!" Barawen exclaimed. "If you do not mind my asking, who was it who did the embroidery in the gown?"

Camaen giggled a little bit before doing a slight curtsey.

"You are looking at the elleth who stitched the dress. I generally do not trust others to breathe life into my sketches. They call me the Lady of the Needlepoint. King Thranduil invited me to court to offer my assistance in planning your wedding day. Allow me to make you dress."

Barawen blushed fiercely.

"Oh, Eru!"she stammered. "I...I do not know how to thank you. What a...lovely gift!"

Camaen held out her arms for an embrace, which Barawen fell into, laughing as she had not in years. Out of the crowd, a figure wearing a black hood burst through the crowd. Barawen stared in confusion, especially when a pale hand raised a dark glass of Dorwinion up to her. Then she heard a bitter yet melodic voice.

"Congratulations," the female said before wandering off.

'Nenlas?" she thought to herself.

She saw Nenlas walk toward Odin, who was doing surprisingly well with the Elves of court, and bend down to whisper something in his ear. Afterward, the two of them wandered off into the corridor leading to the study and vanished from sight.

/ / / / /

Legolas found himself catching up with old military friends. They were all imploring him to heed various warnings. The each had tales of the ways of ellith and what to expect of a wife.

"Be sure to have an attendant at the ready when she is pregnant. The pregnant elleth's appetite is insatiable!"

"Ellith enjoy presents. Do not shy from the idea of surprises!"

"Enjoy your hony moone whilst it lasts! Children change your marriage!"

Between all the advice on which months were good to surprise wives and how to please an elleth, Legolas felt about ready to stove his head in. He noticed Gimli had yet to lay in to him.

"What, have you no clever advice for me?" Legolas asked.

Taking a great big gulp of Dorwinion, he chuckled and sighed.

"Alas, I have no clever words of forewarning. Mining has been my wife, and knowing Dwarf-women, I doubt I'll be trading her in any time soon. Can't say the same for Odin though."

He pointed Legolas' eyes to a cloaked figue leaving with him and disappearing out of sight. Deep in the pit of his stomach, he could not find it in him to trust the situation.

/ / / / /

"Do you remember me?" Nenlas asked, taking off her hood. Her smokey grey eyes held a dangerous sort of power in them; a power that was drawing Odin in to them.

His brown eyes lit up to see her once again.

"Of course I remember you! How could I forget your hair, shining like silver and gold?"

A sinister grin crept across her lips.

"I'm so glad to hear that," she said sweetly. "I have missed you, and I know you have been busy. Allow me to give you a gift?" she asked, running her fingers through his coppery beard.

Slipping a silver necklace adorned with a blue gem out of her sleeve, she showed him how the gem was crafted like a flower, with vines of silver.

"Please, I do not want any of your people to fight for it. Keep it for me, to remember me in Ithilien. And keep it secret, as a reminder of how fond I am, regardless of how our people view interracial relations."

Odin clasped it tightly in his palm before bowing deeply. He took Nenlas' hand and kissed it.

"I will never let another's eyes fall upon it!" he promised. "You, the fairest of all women in Middle-earth, shall always be able to rely on Odin's word!"he said, puffing out his chest.

Nenlas smiled, kissing him on the cheek and slinking away to her room.

**Authoress Chat:**** Hopefully this chapter whetted your tongues. And I hope it revealed some motivations of characters. Let me make it clear: NENLAS (though fucked up) IS NOT EVIL! She just is motivated by spite. And Thranduil is picking sides with his children. He wants everyone to feel loved. Let me know what you think. Till later. Ja ne!**


End file.
